This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

CLAIMED BY THE BAD BOY: The Road Rage MC copyright @ 2017 by Paula Cox and E-Book Publishing World Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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By Paula Cox

DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL IS ALL GROWN UP.

My president’s daughter isn’t the little squirt I remembered.

She’s grown up now. Sexy. Tempting.

I’ve been gone for a long time…

But now that I’m back, I’m about to make her mine.

Bri the Brat had a crush on me forever.

She was just a little girl then.

Not to mention, as the MC prez’s daughter…

Strictly off limits.

But that was then.

Things are different now.

I spent two years being tortured and caged by my enemies.

My own brothers thought I was as good as dead.

But I made it out, against all odds.

I should be happy.

I’m alive, after all.

Pulled back from death’s doorstep.

But I’m not happy.

Far from it.

I’m mad as hell.

Because I find out that Bri has been keeping secrets from me.

She’s got my baby in her belly…

So I’m coming to take what’s mine.

Slick

When you come home after a long time away, you expect everything to be the same. Two years I was away, a prisoner, and all that time I would picture the Road Rage clubhouse in my mind. But not just that; I would picture it in my mind how it was when I last saw it. I’d left for the job in the afternoon. It was supposed to take a couple of weeks and ended up taking years; now, in the early morning, the place seems changed. An extra wing has been built onto the side, a dormitory for the growing membership. There’s still the red, neon letters above the garage area, spelling out the MC’s name. But the motorcycles are no longer kick-standing outside on the dirt like before. A car park has been built, smooth grey granite, and the bikes are there instead. Small changes, and yet it just tells me that life has moved on without me.

I bring the bike to a stop in the garage area. My body is aching from the long ride, Seattle to Denver in one twenty-hour slog. The garage is about the same, even if there are a few more fancy toys now; the calendar with pictures of naked women is the same, though now it reads 2017 and not 2015, and the smell of oil and metal hasn’t changed. The office off to the side is closed—it’s still early—so I leave my bike in the middle and go and take a seat at the back of the room, watching my bike and, beyond it, the road. Then I look down at my hands, knuckles scarred, and will them not to shake. I’m not there anymore, I remind myself. I’m not under the thumb of the Masked Man, who really wasn’t one man but many, those psycho fucks at the Flaming Skull taking turns to torture the prisoners. I remember once when—

I close my eyes, take a deep breath. Old and new scars clash all over my body: my arms, my legs, my back. Most of them are not deep, just surface, harmless fightin’ marks. Most of them are products of beatings and fights. But a couple of them are deep brutal scars left over from when the Masked Man would go into a rage, grab a whip or a machete or a pistol. I squeeze one hand with the other, trying to squeeze hard enough so the pain distracts me from the memories. Two years I was kept fuckin’ prisoner up there in Seattle, all ’cause a gun deal for one of my courier missions went south, and they decided the best response was to take a patched man hostage. Word was Grizzly thought I was dead, but when he found out he sent for me, and spent a damn long year negotiating for my release. Him and Clint.

Clint, the new VP, though new isn’t exactly the word considering my dad has been dead for a long time now. Still, I don’t trust Clint much, don’t like the way he looked when he and Grizzly and a few others came up to Seattle once for a talk with the Flaming Skulls. I was there, locked in back with the other prisoners, watching. And Clint looked like he couldn’t give a shit whether I was set free. I even saw the bastard laugh and clap one of the Flaming Skulls on the back like they were pals.

Sitting against the garage’s back wall, my eyelids are drooping, my head sagging. I yawn, stand up, begin to walk around the garage. Somebody should be here pretty soon. I think about going into the clubhouse, but after two years of being locked up with nowhere to go, I want to make sure my bike is tuned up . . . I’ll always have an escape route, now. I’ll never be left stranded like that again. That’s the only reason those pricks got me in the first place, a goddamn malfunction with my bike. Dumb luck.

I was wrong about the garage being the same. There are new pictures on the wall. There are pictures of me with the men, standing there with a dumb smile on my face. This was before I really got the fire in my belly. This was before I realized that a man needs real power if he is ever going to feel content with his life. This was before I realized that being a courier is fine but I need more; I need to be VP. I need to follow in my dad’s footsteps and I need to oust that Clint fucker and show the club what I’m made of. I study the picture, all of us from two years ago, me with that smile on my face, hating it. The past me, the me before I was put through the gauntlet with the Masked Man and the torturers and the fights and the spit. The me before the world took its pound of flesh.

Perhaps I shouldn’t care, but it pisses me off when I see the following pictures, the ones taken when I was a captive. All smiling, just the same . . . but I’m sure Clint is smiling a little more. Grizzly just looks the same, but then Grizzly has been like a dad to me since my real dad died, all those years ago. What’s it been? Two decades? Goddamn.

I return to my chair, getting impatient now. I need sleep, but I won’t leave my bike before she’s been seen to. If that makes me paranoid, then I’m paranoid, but I reckon that’s understandable considering even now when I catch a shadow the wrong way I see the Masked Man, watching, sometimes giggling as me and another prisoner take chunks out of each other.

“I’m just the messenger,” I’d told the Masked Man, dozens of times, always telling him no matter which him I was dealing with. At first, anyway, I told him a lot. But then I came to understand that in this life, the messenger is in just as much danger as the gunner, or the VP . . . and if you’re going to have as much danger as the VP, I reckon you should have the same power, too. I remember Dad, efficient, cold, powerful, and whisper to myself, “It’s time to prove myself to Grizzly. It’s time to prove myself VP material.”

I’m rambling; sleep hovers at the periphery of my consciousness. I lean forward and massage my eyelids, trying to work some life into them.

“Long night?” Her voice comes to me across the length of the garage, from the entrance. I open my eyes, lean up. She’s young, maybe around twenty, with tan skin and coppery hair which curls around her chin. She smiles, and I see that her teeth are dazzling and perfectly white. As she approaches me, she takes a hairband from her pocket and begins securing her hair in a little, flaring ponytail.

“You could say that,” I respond.

She’s looking at me strangely, but I don’t know why. She’s hot stuff, I’ve gotta say. Tall, thin, but with a womanly curve to her breasts and her hips. It’s been a damn long time since I saw a woman like that. A damn long time since I was able to just sit in the morning sun and watch as a woman moved gracefully toward me. I feel my cock getting hard, and stand up as she reaches me. She wears overalls, and her sleeves are rolled up to the elbows. I’m consumed with just watching her, the bright flush on her skin, her bright green eyes, her long night-black eyelashes.

She looks up at me. “So, what’s the problem?” She still has that same look, as though waiting for something to happen.

“No problem exactly,” I say. “Just need to make sure she’ll be ready if I need her. Plus I don’t trust the cowboys at the last shop, so I reckon she needs a once over.”

“Okay, we’ll take a look.”

Still smiling at me, that same look, green eyes probing. Damn, but this woman is the hottest thing I’ve ever fuckin’ laid eyes on, and the way she keeps glancing around, like a deer, like a nervous deer . . . I look closer, as she walks away from me, wiggling that ass, and that’s when it hits me. I sit down, watching her as she takes her tools and starts in on the bike. The last time I saw Brianna Shields, Grizzly’s daughter, she was a nineteen-year-old tomboy with a smokin’ body just waiting to come out, but still hidden. Now, she’s flowered, her body tight even in the overalls.

That explains that cute smile. She recognizes me, of course she does, and she’s shocked that I don’t recognize her. Well, I’m shocked, too. Especially when you consider that shortly before I became the plaything of some sick fucks in Seattle she and I had a one night stand. Especially when you consider that the Brat was hot on me when she was fourteen and I was twenty-one; I never did anything then, but I couldn’t avoid how beautiful she was becoming. Especially when you consider that hot, steamy night, the night that changed everything, the night I lost myself in a nineteen-year-old with a wicked tongue and playful nature I could never have guessed at. Her hair, though only chin-length, is much longer than when I knew her. She was a tomboy, a coltish, lanky tomboy, splotched with oil and reeking of the garage.

“It’s good to see you, Brat,” I call to her, as she works the wrench.

I see the corner of her mouth twitch in a smile, and then she shoots back: “Don’t call me Brat, Sky.”

I bristle. Sky is short for Skylar, which is a name I haven’t used since I was a little kid. It’s also what Brat called me time and time again that night, whilst I was on top of her and she was writhing beneath me. Sky, Sky, Sky, she moaned, and back then, sweating and consumed with the pleasure of her body, I didn’t mind it. When I asked her why she kept calling me that, she said that my eyes were sky-blue, and as we fucked she could not take her gaze from them.

But I can’t let her know how fond of it I am. Then the fellas might find out, and for the rest of my damn life I’d be Sky. “Don’t call me that, Brat.”

Bri giggles, but it’s a grown-up giggle. In two years, she’s become a woman. “How are you, Slick?” Her voice is strained as she works the wrench, my bike making a loud squeaking noise.

“Better, now,” I say, unable to help myself. When you’ve been locked up for two years and the first thing you see when you get home is a tight, sexy, vivacious woman, a woman you fucked a couple of years back, how the hell are you meant to restrain yourself? She’s bent over, ass pushed out, as she struggles with the wrench. I go rock-hard for her, watching the way the fabric of the overalls hugs her perfect ass. That ass was skinny once upon a time; now it’s round, full, ripe for spanking, more . . .

I swallow, but I can’t ignore how sexy she is. Her hair was more gingery when I last saw her, and I’m sure there were more freckles on her face. Maybe they’re still there and she’s wearing more makeup, but that, too, is a change. She was a tomboy who hated makeup.

“You were a kid the last time I saw you, Brat.”

“I was nineteen,” Bri replies. “Hardly a kid.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I decided to grow my hair out,” she says, voice jerky as the bike goes squeak-squeak-squeak, the only backing music to this reunion. She sounds nervous when she asks, “Do you like it?”

“Ever since you were old enough to say no, you’ve said no to growing your hair out,” I say, remembering when I was ten and she was three, and she screamed and cut her own hair whenever it got longer than a few inches. Even when she was she was a teenager, she never grew it longer than her chin. When I had thought of Bri while I was in my cage in Seattle, I saw a coltish long-legged teen skipping between bikes with oil on her face. Now . . . “It looks incredible,” I tell her. “Damn incredible.”

“I see you haven’t lost your charm,” Bri mutters, smiling, but not looking at me. I get the sense she doesn’t want to look at me, though I have no clue why.

I stand up, join her at the bike, standing over her. It’s been twenty-four hours, maybe more, since I last slept. But now I’m wide awake. I remember that night we shared, how shy and then, toward the end, wild she was.

“So,” I say, “did you miss me?”

Bri

Did I miss him? I almost laugh at the question, but my heart is beating too fast in my chest right now for me to find anything funny. But the question is ludicrous. Missing him doesn’t even come close to the effect his absence has had on me . . . on us. I keep working the wrench, but really I don’t have any clue why anymore. I’ve forgotten what I originally knelt down here to do. Slick’s always had this effect on me, for as long as I can remember. But I’m a woman now; I won’t play the nervous girl.

“I missed you,” I say, keeping my voice neutral.

I stand up, turning away from him, and walk to the other end of the room to where my rag rests on the counter.

“Then why won’t you look at me, Brat?”

Brat . . . I remember when I was a scrawny kid and he first started calling me that. Back then we were just kids, and I didn’t have a crush on him and he certainly didn’t have a crush on me. I can’t remember the exact moment when Slick stopped being a wild older boy and became a man. All I remember is being fourteen years old and flaring with hormones and wanting nothing more than for him to sneak into my bedroom one night. But he wouldn’t. He was too respectful for that. And he had no interest in girls under eighteen. But when I turned eighteen . . . as I wipe my hands, the memory hits me, just as his thrusts hit me that night, the writhing, the shaking orgasms, the trembling pleasure of it all.

“I’ll look at you,” I say. But my conscience is heavy. This is all so confusing. I feel guilty even if him being captured had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t like I hid her from him. He just wasn’t here.

There’s a laugh in his voice. “Go on, then.”

Placing the rag down, I turn and face him. My breath catches for half a second, but I fight away that girlish response. I can’t stop my body from aching at the sight of him, however. He’s much the same as he was when he left, even if there are a few more scars on his knuckles. He’s tall with sky-blue eyes, startling eyes, the sort of eyes to make you take notice. Tall, muscular, with a kind yet tough face and oil-black hair shaved close at the sides and longer on top. Now, after his long ride, his hair droops down over his eyes. His arms—and his back, I remember—are tattooed with the roads he’s ridden during his time as a courier.

“See,” I say, smiling nervously as he just stares at me. “Looking at you isn’t a problem.”

“You seem uncomfortable,” he says, approaching me. He moves with the calm confidence of a jungle cat, his mass of muscles resting beneath his languid movements, but as I watch him, I get the feeling I’ve always gotten: that if he wanted, he could move with ferocious intent. I remember that night, when my feelings were confirmed, and a hot tingle moves down my spine.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” I say, looking up at him.

We stand close together now, about a foot apart. He wears his leather and a pair of scuffed blue jeans and workman’s boots. He looks rough, tired, and yet somehow still handsome as hell. He grins at me, that same cocky grin underlain with real emotion. “Good,” he says. “I just . . . I’ve gotta say, Brat, it’s damn strange seeing you like this. I thought by nineteen you were pretty much all grown up, but it looks like you still had some growing up to do.”

I’ve had to grow up, I want to say, but don’t.

Instead, I say, “You look about the same. Rough. Scary. The sort of man you want to stay clear of.”

“Is that right?” He steps forward, now so close that his body is almost pressed up against mine.

My heartbeat goes into overdrive now. I let my hands rest at my sides, sweating, shaking. My legs fidget, as though they either want to run or be wrapped around his waist. My mind is the worst culprit of all. My mind throws up images of Slick, memories of his naked body, writhing, thrusting, phantom sensations of his breath on my neck, his lips on my breasts.

“What are your plans now, then?” I ask, trying to redirect the conversation. It’s not that I don’t want to be with Slick—he’s come to me every night these past two years, burning into my dreams—but I can’t, not until he knows everything. He might feel different if he knew the truth.

But he doesn’t want the conversation to be redirected, I can tell. “How is it, Brat, that you can wear an overall and still look sexier than any woman in lingerie?”

I blush. I don’t want to. But that’s the effect he has on me, gazing at me—no, into me—with those sky-blue eyes. “You’re just talking to talk now,” I mutter.

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not blushing!” I protest, but even so I turn my face away from him. “You’re such an ass, Sky .”

He chuckles. After two long years, hearing him laugh is about the sweetest thing there is. Having him lean over me and talk all this bullshit is just as sweet. But what would be far, far sweeter than both is to open the garage office, drag him inside, and lose myself in him for an hour.

His fingers are rough on my chin, but I’ve never minded his roughness. He turns my face back to him. “I thought about you a lot when I was away,” he says. “A damn lot. So you’ve gotta see how surprising it is to come back, not to the nineteen-year-old Brat I left behind, with the tomboy hair and the tomboy—well, everythin’—but to come back to . . . look at you, Brat.”

Without thinking—if I was thinking, I wouldn’t do it—I reach up and press his fingers into my face, enjoying the roughness. For a long moment, we just watch each other. Then I let my hand drop and take a step back. “I . . . I need to work on the bike.” I turn away.

Slick walks around me, intercepting me, and says, “I was thinkin’, Brat, why not pick up where we left off?”

Again, we are standing face to face, bodies almost touching. My nipples, hard, scream out at me to step forward another inch, let them press into his pectoral muscles. My clit aches, sending signals through my body for his rough finger to be pressed against it. My breath comes quicker, so quick I have to bite down on my lip to stop from panting. How easy it would be, to throw myself at him. I want to, I’ve thought about it countless times since he’s been away, not knowing if he was dead or alive.

“It’s more complicated than that,” I whisper, glancing down.

He lifts my gaze again. “No,” he says, “it isn’t.”

He leans down. We’re about to kiss. In the split-seconds between his words and him beginning to lean down—less than a second, the breath of a moment—I no longer care about my reservations. Slick has had his effect on me, as he has many times before. And I welcome it, despite the complications. An hour, two hours of pure pleasure. Then, the complications will be aired.

His lips brush mine. I let out a small moan.

“Brianna!”

Dad’s voice cuts through the moment like a butcher’s cleaver. I place my hand on Slick’s chest and push away. Slick steps back, a bemused smile on his face, and then the bemusement turns sour as he sees Dad—or Grizzly, to Slick—standing there with one of his angry looks. Dad has an entire assortment of these, one for each occasion. This one isn’t blind rage, more like understanding anger; he understands why we might want to kiss, but he does not condone it. All of this displays itself in the deep-lined etches of his wrinkled face. Even now, at twenty-one, I find him imposing. Not as tall as Slick, but wider, bald but sporting a bushy grey beard, his eyes a deep brown, he looks like some old great bear, gnarled but still tough.

“Boss,” Slick says easily. “Bri was just tuning up my bike. Long ride back.”

“Right,” Dad says. “I’ll send one of the pledges out.”

“I can do it—”

Dad barks, “You need to pick up your daughter. That damn babysitter isn’t going to take care of her for the rest of her life, you know. I’ve had her on the fuckin’ phone—the club phone—askin’ how much longer you’re going to be. You said you’d pick her up in the morning.”

“Oh,” I murmur, remembering. I’d only come into the garage area for my car keys, which I’d left on the counter yesterday before crashing in the clubhouse after a long job. Heather had taken care of Charlotte overnight, but she has work this morning. But then I’d seen Slick and just sort of went into auto mode.

“Daughter?” Slick says. “Daughter? What the . . . I thought you . . .”

“I better go,” I say quickly.

I don’t look at him, can’t look at him, or these past two years will spill out in a jumbled mess. I pace away from the counter, reach Dad—who stares down at me with his disapproving bear’s stare—and then have to return to collect my keys. I pick them up and leave the garage as quickly as I can, head bowed, annoyed at Dad for interrupting us, annoyed at myself for being so rash with Slick, for letting my defenses down, and most of all annoyed with those bastards in Seattle for taking him hostage to begin with. All of this would be so much simpler if Slick had been here for the last two years.

Climbing into my car, I start the engine and make my way toward my apartment building. I keep thinking about the kiss, the almost-kiss, the barest touching of lips. I keep thinking about how it would’ve felt to press my lips hard into his, to reach down and squeeze his cock, a cock I’ve only ever felt inside of me once. Sometimes, since he’s been away, I’ve woken up in the night with my hands wedged between my legs, in my crotch, fingers rubbing furiously at my clit and Slick naked and sweating and manly as hell in my mind.

I push those thoughts far down, but then my mind just turns to Dad and Slick, to wondering what they’re talking about. I hope Dad doesn’t confront Slick about it; I hope he just leaves it, pretends he didn’t see anything. Dad is a good man, but it seems that nobody is good enough to even broach the idea of being with me. He says he wants me to settle down and find somebody, but every man is a monster and he doesn’t want me or his granddaughter at risk, especially after Mom. Mom . . . That’s why Slick was so surprised, I think. I once told him that after I learned what happened to my mother—she died giving birth to me—I would never have children of my own.

“Well,” I mutter, pulling into my apartment building’s parking area, “things change.”

I walk past the people leaving for work, swipe into the building, walk up to the second floor and enter the apartment. Heather barely has time to be angry before she gives me a peck on the cheek and rushes out to work. She was my mother’s best friend, and she’s taken me under her wing since I was a little kid. It’s not like Grizzly was going to show me how to use tampons and remind me to use condoms. Though that second lesson didn’t sink in so well. With her short, dyed red hair, fierce and loyal, Heather Chapman makes the perfect babysitter.

I find Charlotte in her bedroom, sitting on the floor, flipping clumsily through one of her picture books. “Panda, panda, panda,” she says, pointing at the panda. “Mommy, Mommy, panda, panda!”

I go to her, kneeling down. She’s got a head of sparse, thin, bright red hair, a wide open face, and looks especially pretty this morning in her pink outfit.

“Hey, princess,” I say, kissing her on the forehead.

She beams.

“Mommy, horsey!” She flips the page, but when she can’t find the horse, she begins to cry.

I flip through the book for her and find the horse, which stops her weeping only after I’ve pointed at it a dozen or so times, and repeated the same number of times the word, “Horse.” I love Charlotte, more than anything, more than life, but as I point at the picture book I think back to that quick brushing of lips, to Slick, and can’t help but wish Dad had walked in one hour later.

Slick

Grizzly doesn’t mention anything about me and Bri. He just stands there as she leaves, and then nods for me to follow him into the clubhouse. He doesn’t say anything, but I can see the disapproval in his old gnarled face. I can see it in the way he looks me up and down, and I can hear it in the sharpness of the words he speaks to Bri, before she leaves. He doesn’t want me near his daughter, which seems damn strange to me considering that, other than him, I’m probably the one person alive who’d never let anything happen to her.

I follow Grizzly, still reeling from the revelation that Bri has a daughter. It gets me thinking. How old? When did she become pregnant? Who’s the fuckin’ father? Of course, I reflect as I walk past the framed photographs, the bar area, the pool table, the kid could be mine. It’s possible. But if that’s the case, somebody would have told me. Grizzly, when he sent word down to Seattle like he did every so often, would’ve sent word about a kid, surely? Or Bri would’ve told me just now? Maybe she was nervous ’cause there’s a dad in the picture; maybe Grizzly was disapproving ’cause he knows the dad and doesn’t want to see him offended. Because, the way I see it, if I’m the kid’s father, what problem could Grizzly have with me kissing her mother?

I push all these concerns aside as I step into Grizzly’s office. It’s a large room, dominated by a wooden desk in the middle, the type you see in a CEO’s office, huge and wide. On the walls, the old club members in black and white stare down from their place in history. An old-style varmint rifle is secured to the wall above the desk. And Clint leans against the wall, just under the rifle. Clint, my father’s successor, and the man who currently has the job I want for myself. Clint is tall, thin, and gentleman-like, which is to say he dresses prissy. He wears a button-up shirt, creased trousers, and shiny shoes. His face is birdlike, all pointy, and his eyes are beady and a brown so light they’re almost yellow. He looks like a math teacher, but I know he’s tougher than he looks, much tougher.

Grizzly takes his seat: a large throne which is meant to intimidate anyone sitting opposite, I guess. I sit in the small guest’s seat, and Clint remains leaning against the wall, arms folded, watching with his beady eyes.

“So,” Grizzly says, “what the fuck happened in Seattle?”

“Don’t you know?” I reply. I thought one of the Skulls would’ve told him.

“I know they took you hostage. That’s it.”

“We want to know how and why they deemed it necessary to take you hostage,” Clint says, in his scholarly voice. “And what precise reason they had for keeping you as long as you did.”

“It’s pretty fuckin’ simple,” I say, not liking the way Clint looks down his nose at me one bit. “They took me hostage ’cause those guns you sent me up there with were useless. They were replicas that couldn’t fire a single goddamn shot.”

“Liar,” Clint mutters.

“Liar? Fuckin’ liar?” Rage boils in me. “I’ve been beaten and caged and starved for two fuckin’ years and when I come home you call me a damn liar? ” I slam my hand on the desk.

“Easy,” Grizzly says, looking at Clint. “Let the man finish his story before you jump down his throat, eh?”

“Fair enough,” Clint says. “I’ll let him finish his story .”

It doesn’t take a genius to work out what that emphasis means, but I let it slide and lean back.

“So my story goes like this,” I say, flashing Clint a smirk. He wriggles like a worm on a hook when I smile at him, flinching away. He must’ve heard some of the stories, even if he doesn’t know all the details. He must know that fucking with a man like me—a man who has been kept caged like a lion these past two years—is a damn bad idea. “I offer them the weapons, they test ’em—they had this range out there—and none of the bastards work. So they start coming in on me—the leader, Russ, the crazy bastard with the pink Mohawk and ten studs in each eyebrow—puts me on my knees and puts a katana to my neck.”

“A katana,” Clint mutters.

“Why the fuck would I make that up?” I say.

“Just let him finish.” Grizzly says, glancing angrily at Clint and then back to me.

“So I punch this bastard in the fruits, and make for my bike. They don’t shoot at me ’cause Russ wanted me alive for questioning, so I managed to get to my bike. And then, when I go to start her, the clutch turns to jelly and I can’t put her into gear, so I’m stranded there revving like an ass, going nowhere. That’s when they catch me, and put me in their fuckin’ cage, and start with that torture shit.”

“Torture.” Grizzly nods. “What kind of torture, Slick?”

“The usual kind. The asshole kind.”

“That’s not very specific,” Clint says, pushing away from the wall and standing at Grizzly’s shoulder. It’s a presumption, standing at the Boss’s shoulder like that, like a fuckin’ guardian angel, and even though Grizzly doesn’t look too happy about it, he doesn’t shrug him away. I guess it would make them look like they’re not all roses and cooperation: a unified force, that’s what they’re presenting.

“Do you really need to know the specifics of the torture?” I ask.

My voice doesn’t shake, but I’m pretty sure it would if I wasn’t being vigilante. I’m no coward, but when you’ve been beaten and forced to fight and kill and you’ve lived two years in the heart of the inferno like some patched Dante you’re bound to have an wash of fear when you remember it all. I keep my face calm, placid, like a pool of water without a ripple.

“Yes,” Clint says, a hungry glimmer in his eye.

I swallow, push my fear far back, and explain about the torture. I tell them about the concept of the Masked Man, how I would never know which member of the Skulls was wearing the mask. I tell them about the times one version of the Masked Man would go crazy and grab a whip, a pistol, a blade, once even a fifty-pound metal dumbbell. I tell them about the fights I was forced to participate in with other prisoners, and how I was forced to dig their graves. I tell them all of this and more in a low, calm tone, showing no sign of the pain it causes me to drag it all up.

“Alright,” Grizzly says. “That’s enough.” He turns to Clint. “Satisfied?”

“Hmm.”

“What do you mean, hmm?” Grizzly asks.

“Wait a sec,” I say. “Did I just recount my two years of torture to satisfy this bastard?” I speak to Grizzly, but I wave a hand at Clint.

“This bastard has a few suspicions concerning your time with the Skulls, if that is what you are so eloquently trying to say.”

“Don’t talk to me about eloquence,” I say. “I read two books a week in that fuckin’ hellhole. It was the only thing they let us do. I just don’t pretty up my talk to try and pretend I’m smarter than I am, pretentious fuck.”

Clint brings his hand to his chest in mock offence, rolling his eyes. Then he lays his hand on the table, leaning over. The more he leans, the more I think about how easy it would be to jump forward and grab his throat and tear it out, tongue and all, and then throw it into the trash where it belongs. But I want his job, and a VP has to stay calm under pressure. A VP has to be a business man, a man who knows how to navigate bloodshed and conversation in equal measure.

“Listen,” Clint says. “Everyone must have their theories about how you, a simple courier—” I swallow dozens of retorts when he refers to me like this. “—was able to survive two years in one of the most infamously deranged and depraved and sadistic clubs in America. The Flaming Skulls are known throughout the country as barbarians who live to torture and abuse. So you will forgive me—and some of your fellow club members, though I will not name them—for entertaining the possibility that you might’ve turned traitor while you were over there.” Before I can respond, he lifts his hands in defense. “Now, now, nobody would blame you for colluding with your captors if your survival was at stake, but your survival is no longer at stake, so if you were forced into any unsavory alliance, now would be the time to disclose it.”

The three of us are quiet as we let Clint’s accusation hang in the air. Then, slowly, I rise to my feet.

“You think I was at a fuckin’ holiday camp?” I say, shrugging off my jacket. “You think I was over there doing a dance and playing checkers and having the time of my life?” I begin unbuttoning my shirt.

“There is no reason to get naked,” Clint says, a laugh in his voice, a laugh I’d love to silence with a bullet.

“Wait,” Grizzly says, watching.

When my shirt is unbuttoned, I let it drop to the floor with my jacket. “If I was at a holiday camp, these were my only souvenirs.”

I lift my arms, displaying the layered scars, old and new, which cover my torso. My tattoos, which spread from my back all over my arms, are obscured here and there with white scar tissue. Some of the scars are small, hard to see, but if you look close enough you can see the marks of my time in the Skulls’ cell. The worst of them are on my back: a nasty gouge from a meat cleaver buried into my shoulder blade which took five months to heal; a series of whip marks which look like somebody tried to scrawl out part of my tattoo with a knife; and a bullet-hole just to the right of my spine, which would’ve paralyzed me had it hit its mark.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grizzly mutters, as I spin around, displaying all my scars. “Alright, kid. Alright. Goddamn.”

I pull on my shirt, shrug on my jacket, and return to my seat.

Then I stare at Clint, waiting for him to admit that maybe, just maybe, I’m a true Road Rager.

But he just strokes his chin, and then mutters: “I am not saying that this is the case, but is it not possible that these are willfully inflicted wounds, in order to trick us?”

I’ve contained my rage for long enough. When he says this, it explodes from me. Vision a blur, movements automated, somehow I’m around the desk with Clint’s neck in my hand. Face close to his face, growling, staring into his beady eyes and seeing the abject fear there. “I was fuckin’ left there to rot. Left to rot like a dog, left to be starved and beaten and fuckin’ toyed with and you wanna tell me it was all make-believe for you? ” I growl the last word, and squeeze his throat even tighter.

Then Grizzly has his hand on my shoulder. “Let him go,” he says.

There’s something about Grizzly’s voice, a note of control, that makes men do as he says. I’m the same, usually, but right now my rage is too powerful. I want nothing more than to crush this man’s throat to bone-blood dust.

Then Grizzly says, “Think of Bri. You were always friends, growing up. Think how upset she’d be to learn you’d shot yourself in the foot the day you get back.”

That gets through to me. Brat, snatched away from me when after two years I have a chance to be with her again.

I let go of Clint’s throat. “Sorry, buddy,” I say, with a light chuckle that Clint doesn’t reciprocate. I turn to Grizzly. “It’s been a long ride. I’m tired. You got a spare room in that fancy new dormitory wing?”

Grizzly nods.

I leave, but not before Clint, his voice hoarse, calls to my back: “Better lock the door, Slick.”

I clench my fist, but I think of Brat, of my desire to be VP, and bow my head and leave the office. Sometimes, fighting is the answer. But sometimes, even for men like me, thinking is the right choice.

It’s time I did a little more of that, I reckon.

Bri

After a week of Slick being back, I’ve rarely seen him. I’ve passed him in the club and I’ve serviced his bike, but we’ve never gotten as close as when he first returned, when we almost kissed. I don’t know if it has something to do with Charlotte, or if he is just busy with club stuff, but either way it annoys me. Perhaps unfairly—it’s not like I throw myself at him or anything—but it still annoys me. We were close, once, closer than I’ve ever been with anybody. Now it’s like something’s changed in him, like his time in Seattle has left an indelible mark on who he is as a person. I am beginning to think that the Slick who left and the Slick who returned might not be exactly the same man.

“What are you doing in there?” Heather says, banging on the bathroom door. “This babysitter needs to piss!”

Perhaps sitting on the toilet isn’t the best place to reflect on all this, though. I finish up, wash my hands, and then join Charlotte in the living room. She’s obsessed with her picture book, and keeps telling me about pandas. Cute as hell, don’t get me wrong, but I’m also long overdue for a night out. The last time I went out was around four months ago, for Christmas. Now it’s springtime and I think it’s time I flowered, but just a little. When Heather returns—navigating the discarded toys and books on the floor—she sits on the couch and makes a cooing noise at Charlotte.

“So, are you excited about tonight?” she asks.

“I’m just going to the bar with some of the club people,” I say. “It’s no big deal.”

“Maybe you’ll meet a man,” Heather says. “A non-club man. Maybe a banker, or a baker; I’m not particular, to be honest, but I would love to see you with a man who doesn’t earn his living in oil and blood.”

I sigh, and just let her continue.

“I never approved of your mother getting involved with Grizzly, and I don’t approve of you getting involved with those leather-wearing bandits.”

“They’re not as bad as you think, Heather . . . especially Dad.”

Heather blushes, and turns away. She made the mistake of telling me one night when she was drunk that she thinks Dad is handsome, for a leather-wearing bandit, that is. “Why don’t you do some online dating,” Heather continues, plowing ahead. Outside, the street is silent, inside, the apartments around us are silent, Charlotte is unusually silent as she watches Heather, captivated, so Heather’s tirade, for the moment, is the only noise in existence. What a tortuous existence. “Do some online dating and find a nice, kind, normal man. Find a man who knows how to behave in a civilized way. You are not a Jane; you don’t need a Tarzan. The days when a man had to sweat and swear and spit and fight to be a man are long, long gone, kiddo. When you’re an old bitch like me, you’ll understand what really matters, and you’ll wish you listened.”

“Are you done?” I ask, when she stops.

She rolls her eyes. “For now,” she says. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be going? Your den of bandits will be expecting you, won’t they?”

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, Heather.”

She tosses her dyed red hair, some of the roots flashing grey at the top of her head. “Don’t tell me things I already know,” she mutters.

After kissing Charlotte goodbye, I leave the apartment and take a cab to the bar. It’s called the Standing Irishman , with a picture of a leprechaun so drunk he can’t stand. His little cartoon ass is propped between two kegs of beer. Inside, it’s about as standard and dive-bar-like as they come, with a long sticky bar, a jukebox blaring old rock tunes, a pool table that’s seen better days, and groups of bikers and truckers and short-skirt-wearing girls falling over and dancing and laughing and drinking. I’m dressed conservatively, with a knee-length skirt and a shirt showing no cleavage, but even so as I approach the pool table where the Rage guys and girls are, I get a few looks. Mostly from Zack, Bryan, and Pascal. Zack is black-haired and black-bearded, a huge bear of a man who looks like a younger version of Dad, which is an immediate no-no. Bryan has a cool-looking scar down the side of his face, all the way to his lip, and wears his leather like a soldier wears his jacket. He has the same way of standing as a soldier, too; he received the scar in Afghanistan, before joining the club. Pascal is a new member, recently patched, a tanned, tall, blonde-haired man with murky blue eyes and a five o’clock shadow.

I ignore them for the first part of the night, instead talking with the girls in the corner, but then Zack swaggers over and says, in his deep bear’s voice, “What do you think, Bri? Reckon you can take me?” He hefts the pool cue.

I’m a little tipsy, it’s true, but that’s what tonight is all about, isn’t it? I stand up and snatch the pool cue from him. Pascal and Bryan stand off to one side, watching. I feel their eyes on me, especially when I lean over to break . . . their eyes lingering on my ass, my legs. I would be lying if I said I didn’t like the attention, that a little harmless flirting is a whole lot of fun when you’ve been cloistered up for months, but there’s no way I’m taking any of these men home. None of them are good enough for Charlotte, that’s for sure. But a tumble in the dark . . . I let my mind turn to the possibility. It’s not like Slick has shown any interest, anyway.

I beat Zack—I think the bearded giant let me win—and then I play Pascal. He is the most handsome of the three, without a doubt. He looks like the sort of man you expect to see in a well-tailored suit, walking up and down Wall Street. He has a calm, self-assured smile as he sets up the balls. Then somebody puts the newest Beyoncé on the jukebox and all at once the place is alive with eagerly dancing women and reluctantly dancing bikers. Pascal comes around the side of the table, that self-assured smile on his lips, and says, “You look beautiful this evening, Brianna.”

“Thank you, Pascal,” I say, realizing that he’s standing very close to me, his leather almost touching my dress. I take a step back. Before Slick returned, Pascal and I were going to have sex, I’m sure of it. There was some tension there, some attraction. But Slick . . . I need to stop comparing every man I meet with Slick, I decide. Nobody is ever going to measure up, so what’s the point? He’s shown zero interest; he gets zero consideration. Anyway, it’s not like I’m going to marry this man. I take a step forward, just a little one, so that my dress and his jacket touch. “I’m proud of you,” I tell him. “For getting patched, I mean.”

In the background, the music blares; somebody giggles. A man laughs.

“Thank you,” Pascal says. “I was thinking, Brianna, you should let me take you to dinner.”

“Dinner? Is that what you want? Dinner?” I smile wickedly as I speak, feeling flirty and fun, thinking that maybe I’ll get that tumble in the dark tonight. “I thought you were braver than that, Pascal.”

“Braver? A man would have to be brave to take you on, Brianna. You’re one hell of a lady.”

Is it bad if I am entertaining the idea of having a one night stand with this man? Is it bad that I want a piece of temporary pleasure? As long as he knows . . .

“If we’re going to do this,” I say, feeling tipsy and dangerous and uncaged, “you need to know that I don’t want anything more. And I don’t want it to become a big thing.”

Pascal grins. “You read my mind,” he says.

Then he leans down, coming close to me. But something happens when his lips are almost on mine, when I can taste his breath; I change my mind. Suddenly, all of it seems wrong. Just as quickly as it seemed flirty and fun, it becomes something I have absolutely no interest in doing. I step away.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter.

He follows me across the table. “What?” he says, confused.

“I don’t want—I’m sorry.”

“I thought we—what the fuck?”

“I know, I’m . . .”

But he isn’t saying what the fuck to me; he’s saying it because the music has screeched into silence.

Even from across the room at the entrance, his voice is loud. And even through the crowd of uncertain dancers, I can see him: glimpses of him, arms at his sides, staring through the people at me and Pascal. From where he’s standing, it must look like Pascal and I have just kissed, or were just about to kiss. “What the fuck is this?” Slick calls, striding into the room, dropping the jukebox plug. He has a look in his eyes like a wild animal, unable to control himself, hands shaking.

He’s halfway to me when Zack and Bryan step into his path. The other guys back away from him, but Zack and Bryan must be able to guess why he’s here, why he’s angry.

“You don’t own her,” Zack growls.

I move away from the pool table, going to the dance floor and joining the crowd that gathers around the three men—four, now, because Pascal joins Zack and Bryan, the three of them boxing Slick in. They’re going to kill him. If fighting starts, these three men will beat him to a pulp. It doesn’t matter how tough you are; when three hardened fighters come at you, you’re not going to fare well.

“Wait!” I cry. “Don’t fight! Please don’t fight! Slick, it’s not what you think!”

I shouldn’t have to defend myself, but even so I feel the need to. For some reason the idea of Slick thinking that I’m with Pascal makes me want to scream at Slick that I’m not and I’ve never been: that he’s still my Sky and I remember that night we shared and I remember wanting him for every day of my life since I was a teenager. And Pascal, before Slick came in, following me down the table . . . I don’t think he would’ve tried anything, not with all these bikers here, but the fact that he didn’t back off right away . . . I shiver, and watch, and wish all of them would just forget they were bikers and fighters and walk away.

Slick, not facing me, says, “I never said I fucking owned her. I just want to know what three fucks like you think you’re doing with Boss’s daughter. How do you reckon he’d take the news that a new-patched fuck like you,” turning to Pascal, “was making moves on his daughter, eh?”

“Don’t play games with us, you traitor fuck,” Zack says. “You don’t have any more pull with Grizzly than we do. We’ve all heard the fuckin’ news. Slick Barkley, courier turned traitor, working his ass off for the Skulls for two years—”

“Say one more word,” Slick interrupts. “Say one more goddamn word.”

Zack laughs. “What’re you goin’ to do, fight all of us?”

Slick takes a step back, lifts his hands in a boxer’s stance, and then nods his head. “Come on then, you shitheads.”

I try and scream at them to stop, but my voice is lost in the hoots and hollers of the crowd. Zack dives for Slick, laughing as he does it as though Slick is nothing to worry about, but then his laughter dies as Slick bobs to the left so fast his movements are difficult to track. He bobs, dodges, and then strikes with a solid right hook which sends Zack sprawling in pain and shock. Then Pascal and Bryan are on Slick, beating him madly, but their fists hit his forearms as he cradles his head. Even over the screaming, I’m sure I hear Slick cursing, grunting. Then he spins, using Bryan’s outstretched arm as a handle of some kind, and somehow ends up behind them. It’s like an MMA move, fast and efficient. He grabs a bottle from the bar and smashes it over the back of Pascal’s head, turning the blonde hair crimson, and then swipes out Bryan’s legs with one brutal kick. When he turns, Zack is on him again, swinging a pool cue in wide arcs which smash the glasses and bottles on the bar. Slick ducks, takes a slap across the cheek, and then catches the cue mid-swing, wrenches it from Zack’s grip, and smashes him over the head. The cue snaps. Zack collapses to his knees, and then onto his face.

All of this happens in a matter of seconds, leaving me to look at the moaning, horizontal bikers in disbelief. Slick, bleeding from a cut on his face, walks over to me and offers his hand. “Come with me, Brat,” he says.

“What the hell?” It’s Clint’s voice, from the entrance.

“Come with me,” Slick repeats, more urgently.

The crowd stirs as Clint makes his way through. I know I shouldn’t go with Slick, not after this, not when Clint is here to report back to my father. But the way he looks right now, with his sky-blue eyes intense, his hair over his eyes from the fight, huge and sexy and handsome and dangerous in his leather . . . I shake off the shouldn’t and grab his hand. He smiles, and then leads me to the back, behind the bar and out the back door. Dimly, I hear Clint calling, but I no longer care, not when Slick pulls me out into the street and together we run toward his bike.

I’m laughing, I realize as I climb onto the back of his bike. For the first time tonight, I’m having a real good time, a good time that doesn’t have to be forced. As he fires the engine, I remember being a teenager, giggling just like I am now, arms wrapped around Slick just as they are now, feeling more excited than I ever had before. When Slick turns around to pull the helmet onto my head, that same excitement comes over me.

Bri

As Slick drives us away from the city and toward the mountains, the wind whipping at my dress and my hands gripping his leather, I feel exhilarated. I remember feeling this way as a girl, a tomboy with an older friend who I had yet to fall for. I remember riding the bus with a fifteen year old when I was a young girl, innocent and playful, just pals then. I remember exploring the mountains, how Slick would protect me; I remember one time I cut my foot on a rock, and Slick cleaned and bound the cut and brought me home. These were times before I had responsibility, a baby girl to take care of, a life that needed to be maintained. These were wild times, Eden times. As the bar, the city, and my life becomes smaller and the mountains become bigger, I begin to feel like a little girl all over again. Only Slick can have this effect on me. Nobody else.

When we begin winding our way up a mountain road, I know where he is taking us. When I turned eighteen, Slick and I began to journey to the mountains more and more, me on the back of his bike, or sometimes me on my own bike riding beside him. We would go up to the mountains to this one spot, beneath a large old oak tree which provided shade from the sun and privacy from the road. There we would sit, sometimes saying nothing, just looking down at Denver. Watching it. Sometimes he would hold me; sometimes we’d make out. But it never got further than that, not until that one night stand.

When the tree comes into view, looking like a many-limbed creature of darkness in the half-moon night, the past rushes into me. Emotions long dormant swirl around my chest. A hundred days and nights of a hundred intimacies with Slick rush into my mind. I grip his jacket harder, his returning finally hitting me as hard as it should have when I first found him in the garage. But I was too stunned, too cynical, too adult. Here, in our teenage refuge, all of that falls away.

He stops the bike, killing the engine, and I whisper, “I’m glad you’re back.” But I can’t kill the adult in me, not entirely, and I follow it up with, “But there was no reason to do that, Slick. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt. Hell, you could’ve really hurt one of the guys.”

Slick kicks the stand and we climb from the bike, moving with instinct and memory to the trunk of the tree, where sometimes he’d lean into the tree as I leant into him, his arms around me. We don’t hold each other now, just stand in the deep darkness of the shade. “I went a bit crazy,” he admits, without shame. “I just couldn’t stand the way that Pascal fuck was leaning over you, Brat.”

“So you killed the jukebox and started a fight with three men? What were you thinking?”

He laughs bitterly. “I wasn’t thinkin’, I guess. Which is a damn shame, ’cause I promised myself I’d try and think a bit more from now on.”

I approach him, lay my hand on his arm. “Listen, Slick. If something happened in Seattle. If something bad happened . . . if you had to do things you’re not proud of . . . you can tell me. You know that, don’t you? We’ve always been friends.”

“Friends,” Slick mutters. “Since you were eighteen years old, we’ve never just been friends.”

“It would’ve been sooner, if I had my way,” I say, glancing away from him, embarrassed by my words. But needing to say them, unable not to say them. “Ever since I was a teenager, if I had my way.”

“That would’ve been wrong,” Slick says. “So let’s be thankful I was the responsible grownup.”

He winks at me, and I giggle. “You—a responsible grownup? Look at your face!”

I go to him, take a packet of tissues from my pocket, and dab at his cut.

“You just carry around tissues?” he asks, wincing.

“When you’ve got a baby girl, the habit is hard to break. I’m sure most of my jackets have a few bits and pieces buried in various pockets.”

“A baby girl,” Slick echoes.

Tell him. Tell him now. I should; I could. This is the moment. And yet something stops me. This is the moment: the moment Slick and I can finally reunite. I don’t want to ruin it with a revelation that will lead to a long, muddy conversation, maybe even an argument.

“I meant it,” I say, taking his hand and pressing it against the tissue. “Hold it there until the bleeding stops. It’s only a cut.”

“Meant what?” he asks, pressing the wound.

“If something happened in Seattle—if you had to do things for them, the Skulls, that you didn’t want to do—you can tell me. I would never tell anybody else. I’m . . . I’m loyal to you, Slick. I’ve always been loyal to you.”

Slick turns to the city, to the lights shining yellow into the sky. “Do you remember the time I stole those CDs from the supermarket and that guy in the parking lot saw and was going to tell the security guard?”

I grin, remembering. “I remember a little girl in pigtails saving your ass.”

“You marched right up to him and said, with a tear in your eye, ‘Please, sir, don’t tell on my friend. He’s very poor and he’s going to sell those CDs for food.’ You evil, evil girl.”

We laugh together. Then I join Slick, looking down over the city.

“I want to be more than a courier, Brat,” he says. “That’s all I can think about right now. Not all that shit—Seattle, pain, blood. I can’t afford to think about that. I want to make my dad proud. I want to be somebody.”

“To them, with them, be that, but with me you can be honest. You can always be honest with me, Sky.”

“Sky.” He smiles, sadly, longingly. “I miss that night; I miss being Sky, sometimes.”

I place my hand on his shoulder, wishing he wasn’t wearing his leather, wishing he was naked like that night: that night which seems long ago, now, a night shared by two different people, two different lives. Slick was not this Slick then, and I was not the woman I have become. I squeeze his leather, and then rest my head on his shoulder. “You can tell me, Slick,” I say. “If something happened . . . I will never judge you. You were away from home. If you were lonely, or afraid—”

Slick turns quickly, grabbing my hand at the wrist and bringing his face close to mine. “The only thing I was afraid of,” he says, his breath tickling my face, his eyes burning blue in the night, so attractive to me that my body roars out for him, every fiber roars out for him, “was that I would never get to kiss you again.”

It’s a cheesy line and if any man other than Slick said it, I would laugh. But there’s nothing funny about the way he’s looking at me, nothing funny about the way he brings his face closer and closer to mine, until his lips are almost pressed against my lips. “Well, I’m here now,” I whisper, though I know it’s wrong. I can’t do anything with Slick until I’ve told him everything. I can’t do anything with him until he knows the whole truth about everything he left behind when he went to Seattle. But he’s so damn sexy. And I remember too well the pleasure we shared, and the anticipation I felt when I was a teenager, watching him, fantasizing. It’s not a fantasy anymore.

He kisses me, hard, pressing into me with the passion of two years spent apart. As we kiss, I imagine all his longing pouring into me, all the times he wished we could be together spilling out in this one display of closeness. I want to stop it, but at the same time it feels too incredible. His lips are warm, and somehow tingling. His body is pushed against mine, his jeans thrust against me. One of his hands moves through my hair, fingers trailing over my scalp, sending more fingers trailing down my body at the tickling sensation. The other is wrapped around my waist, holding my lower back. My hands are wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, sinking into the kiss. But more than the physical sensations, the bare fact of it drives me wild. I am kissing Slick. After two years picturing him in my dreams, I am kissing him. The older boy who became the older man who became my lover and then disappeared . . . I am finally kissing him.

I jump up and Slick knows what to do straightaway. He grabs my ass and holds me up as I wrap my legs around him. We back up, hitting the tree, all the while kissing passionately. I open my mouth, hungry for him, and our tongues brush against each other. I taste him, tasting the man I’ve wanted for so long, for as long as I’ve wanted anybody. He tastes like home; he tastes like pleasure. He tastes like something I’ve waited a long, long time to taste. His hands are firm on my ass cheeks, grabbing the flesh, massaging it. Sometimes, his finger slips between my legs, to my pussy, pushing up against my panties and my clit. Fuck, this feels incredible, and I just know where it could lead . . . bent over against the tree, fistfuls of bark, with Slick sliding his huge cock into me from behind. Bouncing up and down the length of it, feeling it deep inside of me, his hands on my bare ass cheeks, spanking, rubbing.

Charlotte . . . Charlotte . . . her name comes to me as though through a mist, a mist of pleasure, broken only by the knowledge that if I do this, I am doing Slick a great disservice. He still does not know that Charlotte is his. He still has no clue that that one steamy night resulted in something much more special. More importantly, I don’t know how he’ll react. How can I fuck a man when I don’t know if he’ll hate or love our daughter? How can I fuck a man when he has no clue what it means to me to be with him again? As far as he’s concerned, this might just be a quick tumble under the old oak tree; it might have absolutely zero meaning to him.

As these thoughts come to me, my pleasure and my passion wane. Slick must be able to sense it because he breaks off the kiss, tilts his head at me. “Somethin’ wrong?” he asks.

“I just . . . can you put me down, please?”

He does so, and we just watch each other for a time. “What is it?” he says, at length.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I say.

Slick turns back to the city. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” he mutters.

“No?” I say, stung.

He grins at me. “I can’t tool up three guys and then fuck the Boss’s daughter in the same night, now, can I?”

I nudge him in the shoulder. “Shut up,” I say, laughing.

But behind the laughter, I am aching. Aching to tell him, aching to be with him, aching to go back in time and fix everything so that right now, in this moment, we would not be standing overlooking the glinting yellow lights of the city, but standing over Charlotte’s crib, hand in hand, before going into bedroom to make love.

“Life doesn’t care what you want, does it?” I say.

“No,” Slick agrees, a fierce note in his voice. “It doesn’t.”

Slick

I sit in silence, hands folded in my lap, waiting as Grizzly and Clint decide if I should be killed, unpatched, or given a second chance. I don’t look at Clint, or at Grizzly. Instead, I watch the wall, staring at varmint rifle and wondering if that old Chekhov’s gun theory is correct. I read about that in Seattle, on one of those long, cold nights of winter, tied to my metal-framed thin-mattress bed with a length of chain, in a warehouse with no heating, hunched over some book reading about some theory which I never would’ve thought to check out before I was captured. That was my cell: a cold hovel warmed only by books. But the problem is, I know for a fact that the rifle is decommissioned. When I was a kid I tried loading it and discovered that the ammo slots had been messed with. So much for Chekhov and his gun—

“He’s not even listening!” Clint cries, flapping his arms in a bird-like way.

“I am,” I say, turning to them. “I was just waiting for you to choose between noose and guillotine.”

“Funny, funny man.” Clint sneers. He is wearing a tight-fitting pale blue suit which makes him look more like a door-to-door salesman that a patched Rager. I guess that’s why Grizzly likes him. He can take care of the business end of shit. Well, so can I, and I can do it without dressing like a goddamn fool.

“Judging from what I’ve observed,” I say, “the weekly turnover of this place is about thirty-five grand, taking into account the gun runs, the courier deals, the protection contracts. I figure that’s about ten grand shy of what this operation could really be putting out.”

“We’re not discussing that! What are you talking about?” Clint demands.

But Grizzly, the man who matters, watches calmly. And, if I’m not mistaken, with a look of interest in his eyes.

“I’m talking about making the operation more efficient. I haven’t been idle this past week; I’ve taken a look around. There are a lot of areas where things would run along much more smoothly. For example,” I go on, raising my voice because Clint keeps trying to cut in, “I took a trip up to the mountains to take a look at the warehouses there. The efficiency of that place is shit, Boss, sorry to be so blunt about it. The workers you’ve hired don’t know what the fuck they’re doing and half the time they’re not even working. Half the time when stuff goes in, it takes ’em a day to find it again when it’s needed.”

“How is that going to raise ten grand a week?” Clint snaps, looking to Grizzly for support.

But Grizzly waves his hand for me to go on. I’m aware that I’m talking for my life, or at the very least for my place in the club. Tooling up three fellow club members without sufficient cause isn’t acceptable in a proper club. We’re meant to be brothers, here. Brothers . . . that’s a load of shit. All Grizzly cares about—all any President cares about, when you get down to it—is the money. Within reason, money rules all.

“It won’t,” I admit. “But I’m just talking about one aspect. Another example is the protection deals.” The Ragers have a variety of business contacts, rich folks in the city and the like, who they routinely offer out their services to at parties and meeting and nasty underworld business. “I went along to one of the meets with one of Clint’s boys. A man called Ralph, if I remember right. He didn’t even fuckin’ press the man, just took what he was given. These are a big source of revenue, ain’t they? Surely—”

“Okay,” Grizzly says. “You’ve made your point. I’ll start you on the warehouse, Slick. Get things sorted down there and we’ll talk about further advancement.”

“Wait a second,” Clint says, blinking between us in disbelief. “You’re going to reward him for beating up three of my men?”

“Your men?” Grizzly turns to him. Even sat down and looking up, he still somehow towers over Clint, making him look small. “The last time I checked, I’m the President, not you, Clint. The last time I checked your title had a fuckin’ V in front of it, or am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong,” Clint mutters, averting his gaze. “But it’s just . . . the men won’t like it.”

“They’ll like it if their shares get bigger, won’t they? Anyway, this wasn’t a random assault. I don’t think this can even be considered an assault of any kind, truth be told, nowhere near eligible for unpatching or—or worse.” Grizzly shakes his head. “Slick went up against three guys and won. From what I’ve heard, it was a fair fight, so shut your fuckin’ whining. We don’t punish men for fair fights.”

Clint takes a step back, nodding.

“Maybe tell your men to spend more time earning and less time drooling over my goddamn daughter,” Grizzly says, teeth clenched.

I don’t say anything to this, and neither does Clint. We both know better than to talk to Grizzly about Brat. Even if I still want to be with her, and even if I can’t get the thought of her out of my head. Or her kid . . . Her kid could be mine; her kid could be one of those fuck’s from the bar last night. Not knowing is the worst part about it all.

Grizzly faces me. “Get up to the warehouse. Start working. We’ll check back in a week. If things are better, we’ll talk more.”

I do exactly that. Leave the office and walk across the sun-dappled parking lot to my bike, and ride out to the mountains.

For the next week, I wake up at six in the morning and get to the warehouses before any of the workers to make sure everything was left in a decent way the night before. I read about efficiency and streamlining and workflow and all that shit in Seattle, on some cold depressing night. I read about it all not knowing if it would ever come in useful. But now, I am glad I spent the time hunched over that book by candlelight. On the first day when I get there, the place is an absolute mess. I come to understand that the guys out here have been allowed to run wild, seeing this as an easy post, a job they can relax on. On the first day, many of them bring board games and cards and portable DVD players and laptops. I warn them not to do it again, and on the second day I smash anything they bring. These are tough men, mostly immigrants and convicts, men who couldn’t find work elsewhere, so a couple of ’em get brave and fight me. After I’ve beaten four of ’em bloody, the place begins to hum along.

By the time the week is through, I have the warehouses organized and running smoothly. There’s a kid in the club, recently patched, called Spike who I take along with me. He’s bald-headed, stocky, and mean-looking with face tattoos of spikes under his eyes like malformed teardrops. But as far as I can tell, he’s the only bastard in the club who is willing to listen and learn. The rest don’t bother me—the fight at the bar has shown them what I’m made of—but they won’t work with me, either. But Spike will, ’cause once upon a time Spike was Michael Smithson, business student, before his little sister and his mom were killed in a car crash and he joined the club; still has a love of business in him, leftover from his old life.

When I have to leave the warehouses for whatever reason, I leave Spike behind. When I return, if anything they’re even more efficient.

It was Sunday when I first walked into Grizzly’s office, expecting punishment. Now it is Sunday again and Spike and I walk across the moonlit parking lot toward the club. “What do you reckon the increase is?” I ask, as we take a seat in the bar. We sit away from the other men, who play pool and drink. But I notice something as I walk across the bar. A few of the men—old-timers from my dad’s time, Jones and Hicks and Fist and Kane—nod to me with respect. A few of the youngsters nod, too, though I can’t tell if that’s fear or respect. Either is good, though; either will strengthen my bid for VP, when I finally make it. “A large increase, or a small—or what?”

“Minimal,” Spike says. “But noticeable. A few hundred a month. You can’t make real money by organizing a warehouse more efficiently, but you can make some.”

“Enough to prove a point,” I mutter.

We drink for a while, listening to the rock music on the jukebox, the breaking of pool balls and the clatter of glasses and ice, and then I stand up and go to the toilet. Maybe it’s a strange time, when I’m standing over a urinal with my cock in my hand, to be thinking of Brat. But the truth is I’ve been so damn busy this past week I haven’t had a chance to see her, and I want to, badly. I dream of her every night: that is, every night I’m not being terrorized with memories of Seattle. I dream of her tight ass, her tight pussy, her bouncy breasts, her perfect fuckin’ face, all screwed up in pleasure like it was that perfect night. And then I think about how close we once were, and her daughter . . . her daughter. There’s so much to juggle when you’re trying to climb. So much more than a courier has to deal with, the open road and the wind and the ride.

When I’m done, I turn around, and come face to face with Clint and two of his lackeys. Both of them are wearing balaclavas, so I can’t see their faces, only their eyes. But it doesn’t matter who they are; they could be anyone. Clint, though pissy and salesman-like, is tough in his core. Growing up, I saw him do all kinds of violent shit, once wrenching a sink from the wall and smashing it over some poor fucker’s head. So I know that he won’t hesitate setting these men on me . . . but here, in the clubhouse bathroom, with dozens of men in the bar next door?

“You have something you want to say.” I move around him casually, wash my hands in the sink calmly, move as though there are not three blood-hungry men watching me closely. I dry my hands, and then look Clint in the eye. All the time they’ve just been watching me. “Say it, then.”

Clint swallows. I can tell I’ve taken some of the sting out of his performance. But he pushes on. “You need to listen,” he says, “and listen closely. Do you really think I’m so stupid that I don’t know what you’re trying to do? Is that it?” The masked men behind him snigger. Images of the Masked Man enter my mind: machetes and whips and smoking flesh and blood. I push them far down, where they belong. Clint goes on: “You think you’d make a good fuckin’ VP ’cause your daddy did?” he snarls, his foppish speech gone in his anger. “That’s not how it works—”

“Realistically,” I interject, “you’re not going to set those dogs on me here, now. So you came in here thinking I might be scared. I’m not scared. What’s the next move? Rant about how you’ll never let me have your job until somebody interrupts us?” I shrug, and then laugh. “Go on, then. Make your speech.”

Clint opens his mouth to shout and then clenches his teeth. “This isn’t over, you little fuckin’ shit.”

He turns and leaves, his lackeys following him.

A couple of minutes later, Spike and I are back in the bar, Clint across the room surrounded by his men. Any one of them could have been the masked men, I reflect; I am surrounded by friends and enemies both. When I happen to catch Clint’s eye, he winks at me.

“How easy do you think it is to crush an eyeball?” I ask.

Spike laughs grimly. “Damn easy, I reckon.”

Bri

Charlotte asleep in her bedroom, making happy little sounds every so often on the baby monitor. Heather and I sit in the living room with Sex and the City on the TV and Heather brandishing a selection of makeover weapons. Blusher, eyeliner, lipstick, concealer, foundation, hair bands, straighteners, curlers . . . all are laid out before her like a knight studying his weapons before battle. She sits on the armchair, hunched over the coffee table, and I sit on the couch half-watching the TV and half-watching Heather. It’s still strange to me to see all these things, these add-ons and accessories that women use to defy nature and genetics. A few years ago, I would never have touched myself with a single brush. Now I am getting ready for a makeover. “How times change,” I mutter, as Heather grins up at me gleefully.

Sex and the City ends and Heather switches over to The Real Housewives . “It’s a perfect background show,” she declares. “Now, stay still.”

I sit before her, moving as little as possible, as she begins her work. Heather is something of an amateur beautician. When I first told her I’d finally started wearing makeup, she insisted on painting me, and now it’s become something of a tradition; whenever I need advice, her payment is my face as a canvas.

“So,” she says, “you’re still down about dear little Slick.”

“Dear little Slick.” I scoff. “I don’t think you’d say that if you saw him now.”

“Oh, I’m sure he can’t have changed that much in two years.”

“Not outwardly—except for a few more scars—no. But something changed inside of him. I can see it, even if he won’t tell me what happened.”

“Oh, I see.” Heather rolled her eyes as she spread blush on my cheeks. I’m supposed to tell you to discover the deep well inside of him no matter what. Follow your heart no matter what. You want me to tell you that because Slick is Charlotte’s father, you have a duty to pursue him and try to tease out the wounded man inside of him and fall in love and happily ever after, amen.”

“Um, well . . .” I shift, but Heather holds me in place so that she can come at me with some bristly utensil. “Pretty much, yeah. I was hoping you would give me some advice on how to get him to talk. I know you don’t know him as well as I do, but—surely there’s some way, you know? Like how do you get through to a man who’s so closed off like that? I know something happened to him in Seattle. I just know it. But most of the time he avoids me, and when we do speak, he won’t tell me.”

“You really want my advice?” Heather asks, laying her tools aside. “All done,” she proclaims.

“Yes, I want your advice.”

Heather stares straight into my face with a stern auntie’s expression. It’s the sort of expression she would aim at me as a girl when I came to her covered in mud or oil. I remember how she would fuss over me then, playing the mother because I never knew mine, always wanting what was best for me.

“You should forget about him,” she says. Her words thud into my chest. She wants what’s best for me . . . and yet she is asking me to forget about the father of my child. “You should forget about the club life altogether. You are a talented mechanic, you can drive a motorcycle, a truck, a car. You could get a new job, I’m sure of it. You don’t need to work at the clubhouse. You could move cities, make a new life for yourself and Charlotte—”

“Why are you saying all this?” I snap.

“You asked for my advice,” she says, bringing her hand to her chest, as though bracing herself against my violent outburst. “I’m not about to just tell you what you want to hear, Brianna. You want my advice? Fine, I’ll give it.” Before I can reply, she presses on, talking loudly to override my interruptions. In the end, I just let her speak. “Listen, Brianna. I told your mother to stay away from men like that and she never listened to me. So I’ll tell you the same. You should find a new life, away from the club, away from the violence and the seediness of it all. Maybe the life is okay for men, but for women? What do you get out of that life except for overbearing fathers and sleazy bikers? If you really want my opinion, I think you should be glad that Slick hasn’t asked you about Charlotte yet. Keep it that way. Raise her someplace else, far away, where she won’t have to associate with all this ugliness.”

For a while, we just stare at each other, Heather with her teeth clenched. She looks surprised by her own anger, but not apologetic. When she unclenches her teeth, she begins collecting her makeup stuff and putting it in a cream zip-lock bag. “You’re all done,” she says. “You look magnificent.”

“He’s not what you think he is,” I say. “He’s a good man. He’s always been a good man.”

“Maybe,” Heather says, not looking at me. “But he’s still a biker, a leather-wearing bandit.”

I stand up, shaking with rage but not willing to aim it at Heather. I can’t. I love her too much. “I take it you’re still sitting tonight?”

“If you’re still going out.” Heather nods. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I say.

I go into the bedroom, change into a dress, heels, and then look at myself in the full-length mirror. If you were to take the short-haired oil-flecked tomboy from three years ago and place her next to me now, you wouldn’t guess they were the same person. I look like a woman, not a ragged girl.

I kiss Charlotte goodbye, say an awkward goodbye to Heather, and then leave. I take a cab to the Irishman , where I know Slick will be. Over these past couple of weeks, he’s been hanging around the Irishman more and more. I tried talking to Dad about it, but Dad never wants to tell me anything about business. From what I can figure out, Slick did a good job with some warehouses, and so Dad’s given him his own earning crew, just a few men, to try and make the club some more money. Since Clint hangs around the clubhouse, Slick has moved to the Irishman .

The place is quiet when I get there, a few old men in the corner, a few women sitting at the bar, the music low. Outside, it is still light, so it will be a while yet before the night-fiends come out to play, to turn the volume up and stamp up and down the dancefloor. I look around but Slick is nowhere in sight. I know he won’t be back at the clubhouse; he’s renting an apartment just round the corner from here, though I don’t know the exact address. Either he will be here, or I’m not seeing him tonight. I order a vodka-and-coke and take a seat by myself in the corner, drinking and listening to the music, watching as the group of women at the bar get drunker and drunker and eventually start dancing.

I’m still angry at Heather, at how she would talk about my entire life, how she would question the way I’m bringing Charlotte up. But I can’t be too angry with her, because I did ask for her advice. It’s just that she’s wrong. She’s just plain wrong about Slick. I finish my drink, order another, tell myself I’m going to sip this one slower and then all of a sudden I’m on my third drink and the doorway is turning from sun-bright to night-dark. A man across the bar, tall, lean, short-haired and passably attractive, with a tattoo of dark green fire spreading up his neck and various colorful tattoos on his arms, smiles over at me every so often. She’s wrong about Slick . . . she doesn’t even know him. She just thinks he’s an animal, like the rest of them. She doesn’t know how much more there is to him.

I’m stewing on this when the man comes over to my table. “How’re you, beautiful?” he says. His eyes are the same shade of green as his tattoo. He’s good-looking, not just passably handsome, I can see now he’s up close. Exactly the sort of man I would be interested in, but—“I’m waiting for someone,” I tell him.

“Oh, okay. Well . . .” He looks around. “Where is he? You’ve been here a while.”

“He’s on his way,” I say.

“Can’t we talk while we wait?”

“Talk about what?” I mutter, thinking of the way Heather just disregarded Slick and getting angry, thinking about how she wants me to just move—move away from everybody and everything—because she thinks he’s too dirty for me. She seems to forget that not too long ago I was just as dirty as him.

“Anything.” The man sits in the chair opposite. “Anything you want.”

“Excuse me,” I say. “I told you. I’m waiting for somebody.”

“Look,” the man says, resting his elbows on the table, “you’re a very beautiful, captivating, and clearly intelligent woman.”

“Is that so?” I say, smiling despite myself. This man is charming. If not for Slick . . . but I can never follow the if-not-for-Slick road, not with Charlotte, not with history.

“Yes,” he says. “And if you would—”

Slick and his men, around five of them, enter the bar. The bald-headed spike-tattooed one walks at his shoulder, talking, the other men trailing behind. A couple of them are old, friends of Slick’s father, and a couple are young, maybe the old men’s kids. They talk loudly, laughing and shouting, and dominate the bar when they sit there, shouting out their orders. Ignoring the man, I jump to my feet and make my way to the bar. Whether it’s anger at Heather’s words or just eagerness—or perhaps the alcohol—I walk fast, urgently. Remnants of anger still singe inside of me, and the alcohol makes everything fuzzy. I shouldn’t have had that third vodka, that’s for sure.

When I get close enough, I hear the bald-headed man shout out: “Here’s to Slick, the greatest leader we could fuckin’ ask for . . . if what you’re askin’ for is a fuckin’ useless fucker! Ah!” He yelps as Slick grabs him in a headlock and rubs his head with his knuckle.

“Little prick.” Slick laughs, and then necks a whisky. “From now on, fellas, I want you to give this bastard a punch across the face every time you fuckin’ see him. I want his face to look like a fat woman’s pussy when you’re done with him.”

Dirty, Heather said. Dirty, wild bandits. She wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Slick!” I call, too loud, too eagerly.

The men stop laughing, and then turn around and face me. When they see that it’s me, their boss’s daughter, they fall quiet.

“Slick, I need to talk to you!”

It’s only now that I realize where this urgency is coming from: I’m going to tell him. I am drunk enough, angry enough, and eager enough. I’m going to tell him about Charlotte, just to see how he reacts, just to prove that Heather is wrong about him. She has to be wrong about him.

He’s been back too long now for me to keep ignoring the situation. I can’t bury my head in the sand forever. So I’ll tell him, and then, maybe—but he doesn’t turn to face me, doesn’t give me any attention.

“Slick!” I repeat, voice sharper.

He shrugs, laughs, and then half-turns and snaps, “Why don’t you act like a woman should and leave us boys alone, eh?”

Then he turns back to his men, all of whom are clearly impressed with Slick’s display of manliness, but unwilling to show it with me here.

My mouth falls open, stunned by hearing him talk to me like that. Then I grit my teeth in rage and think about shouting at him again. But already he’s making some crass boys-will-be-boys comment to his men. I know that if I shout at him, he’ll just ignore me again. So I need to come up with another way to annoy him. Maybe this is petty. This sort of behavior should be beneath me. But fuck that. If he’s going to snap at me like a childish asshole, I’ll be a childish asshole right back.

I turn on my heels and march across the bar, going to the table where the green-fire-tattooed man is sitting. He glances up at me over the rim of his glass of whisky, eyes playful when he sees how angry I am. It seems that all guys are destined to be assholes today! I want to glance over my shoulder, see if Slick is watching, but I don’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing I give a damn.

“Can you walk me out?” I ask the guy.

“Walk you out?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism or do you really want me to just walk you out?”

I sigh. “I really want you to just walk me out,” I say, wondering if I’m going too far. Maybe this really is too childish. Maybe I should stop. But I can’t get the way he just snapped at me out of my head; I can’t ignore their laughter, which even now dominates the bar, loud and raucous. But this is way, way too far, I reflect, shaking my head. Maybe the alcohol has gotten to me. “No, actually, don’t worry.”

“No—wait.” The man stands. “I’ll walk out with you. I’m leaving now, anyway.”

“Oh, okay.” I nod, trying to think of a way of backing out of it. But it’s too late. He’s on his feet, walking beside me, and soon we’re outside the Irishman standing opposite each other.

“Are you really not going to give me a kiss?” the man asks, grinning. There’s something unsettling about that grin, about the way it doesn’t reach his eyes, about the way he shifts from foot to foot like a boxer warming up.

Bri

I don’t know what this man would try if Slick did not pace into the parking lot, swaying a little from all his drinking, and walk directly over to me and the man. The man is grinning in that strange way, but he hasn’t made any move at me yet. We’re out front in the parking lot, but the lot is deserted this time in the evening, the drinkers preferring to come out later, so he could’ve done anything. But then Slick is standing beside us. He’s taken off his leather, wearing just a T-shirt and faded jeans, his arms taut and scarred and tattooed and tempting, arms I have dreamt of for the past two years. Shame they’re attached to a man who was just rude as hell to me.

“Beat it,” Slick says to the man, and then turns toward me as though that’s the end of the matter.

But the man doesn’t beat it. He squares his shoulders, puffs up his chest. “We’re having a conversation here,” he says. “I saw you in there. You were damn rude to the lady. Why should I beat it?”

Slick sighs, shakes his head. “I don’t wanna fuck you up,” he says calmly. “So just fuck off.”

Something about Slick’s tone must make the man question if I’m worth it, and decide that I’m not. He watches Slick for a few moments, and then bows his head and slinks away, heading around the side of the building, where his car must be.

“That was pretty rude, in there,” I say.

But then Slick just walks away from me, heading around the side of the building toward his bike. I follow him, finding it hard to believe how much of an asshole he’s being, like he doesn’t even know me, let alone like me. The tattooed man pulls out in his car, driving past us, so that when we reach Slick’s bike, we are alone in the car park. Music thumps dimly through the Irishman ’s walls, and far away a car backfires, but nobody is near us. The eaves of the bar throw deep shadows over his bike, further hiding us.

“Slick!” I snap. “What’s gotten into you?”

He has his hand in his pocket, fumbling for his keys, staring down at his bike and unwilling to look at me.

“You’re not driving!” I walk around the bike and snatch his keys away from him.

He wobbles a little, and then lifts his sky-blue eyes to me. He must’ve been drinking all day. His eyes are shot with blood, watery. “What’re you doin’, Brat?” he says. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” I reply, dancing back to my side of the bike, where he can’t snatch the keys from me. He just stands there, watching me, that cocky smirk on his lips. “You were going to drive, Slick . . . look at you. You’re drunker than I’ve ever seen you in my life.” It’s true. Slick’s always been able to hold his drink, which means he must’ve drunk a hell of a lot if he’s wobbling like this. “You haven’t even got your helmet with you. You’re not wearing your jacket. And you were going to drive!”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Slick mutters, leaning against the wall of the bar. “I was goin’ to get a pack of goddamn cigarettes. What are you, Brat, my mother?”

“Stop being such a prick!” I wave my arms in frustration, the keys making a ringing noise in my hand. “I wanted to talk to you. Why is that such a problem?”

“Look,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t have a woman shouting at me in front of men who look to me for leadership, not even if you are Boss’s daughter. Do you think I’m goin’ to get ahead by accepting that sort of shit?”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” I mutter. “And you humiliated me. You made me look like a little kid getting a goddamn telling off!” Anger rises once again, and I go on, getting angrier, “And you’ve barely spoken to me since that night at the tree! What is it, Slick, ignoring me just because I haven’t fucked you yet? Is that all you see me as, a quick goddamn lay?”

Slick makes a snorting laughing sound, and then pushes away from the wall. Walking around his bike, he says, “I don’t know what you want, Brat. That’s my goddamn problem. One minute you come at me all hot and heavy, wrapping your legs around me and moaning like you fuckin’ like it, and the next you’re jumping away from me and tellin’ me you want me to stop. I’ll be the first to admit, Brat,” he goes on, backing me against his bike, the metal cool through the thin fabric of my dress, “that I’m not the best man when it comes to that emotional shit with women. But goddamn, what the fuck are you tryin’ to do, drive me mad or somethin’?”

“I . . .” I should tell him now, I should just tell him outright this moment, but it’s that conundrum again . . . his hand is trailing up my thigh, his rough fingers tickling my skin and sending buzzing sensations all the way to my pussy, making my clit warm, making everything warm. “I . . .” He makes it so damn difficult to get the words out sometimes, makes it so difficult for me to think straight when he comes at me like this. I can’t stop looking at his arms, scarred, tattooed, powerful, muscles pressing well-defined through skin, big masses of muscle.

“You what?” Slick says. And then he grabs my thigh with what feels like all his strength, grabs it so solidly that for a moment it hurts. But then he eases off the tension, and slides his hand up my thigh, stopping just short of my panties. “What do you want, Brat? Don’t you want to come all over my hand, just like you did that night? Don’t you want to squirt like my little whore? I remember the way you squirted; I remember the way you sucked my fingers afterwards.”

“I—”

He presses his hand down on my panties, pressing my clit. It’s been so long since I felt his hand on my pussy that all thought is obliterated from my mind. I bite down, and then try once more to tell him, one last ditch effort. But my body is too hot, too aching for pleasure. He pushes my panties aside and brings his middle finger to my hole, which is wet, so wet so quickly, soaked and tingly and aching for his finger, his cock, his tongue, his everything.

“I remember when you got on your hands and knees and begged me to fuck you hard from behind, Brat. I remember how you bounced your ass up and down, moaning, telling me you were my little slut, just mine, and you’d do anything for me. I remember looking down at my rock-hard cock and seeing it covered in your come, thick and white, and I remember fucking you ever harder ’cause I loved to look at it so fucking much.”

When he slides his finger inside of me, I am powerless. There is nothing I can do but lean against his bike, my ass pressing coldly into the metal, his finger pressing warmly into the sweet spot inside of me. He slides another finger in, two fingers buried deep inside of me, his eyes staring like blue flames into me, his muscles taut, smelling of whisky and sweat and me loving the smell more than anything.

“Are you going to squirt for me again?” he asks, sliding his fingers in and out of me, the sensation so full of heat and sparks and electric impulses that I can’t even answer. I just feel them, two strong oily biker’s fingers, callused from fighting and riding, in my tight wet pussy.

“You look like you are, Brat,” he says, fucking my pussy faster with his fingers, in and out, in and out, so that I can hear the fleshy sound of him inside of me. He fucks me so fast with his fingers that I have to stand on my tiptoes from the force, gripping his arms with my hands, squeezing his muscles. “I want you to squirt all down my fuckin’ arm,” he says, breathing heavily. “I want to fuckin’ see it.”

Muscles tensing, he lifts me off my feet and sits me down on the bike so that he can put the strength of his arm into finger-fucking me. Aiming his fingers at my hot spot, he fucks me fast and hard, so fast and hard that I start moaning right here in the car park. I am vaguely aware that someone, at any moment, might interrupt us. And I am vaguely aware that it might even be one of Slick’s men, who’ll then go and tell my father. But none of that matters, not with the pleasure coursing through me like wildfire. I lean back, and shift my hips as his fingers slide, hotly, soaked, into my sensitive stop.

“I’m going to—fuck—Slick—fuck—”

“Come for me,” he growls. “Squirt all over my fuckin’ arm.”

I close my eyes, feeling as though I am floating instead of sitting on the bike, floating and hovering above a raging inferno whose heat scorches into my pussy, holding myself poised above the heat to best ride the pleasure. Euphoria grips me, then, and my pussy gets even tighter, closing like a fist around his fingers, gathering its pleasure into a tight ball. And then—the release hits me with the force of a punch to the stomach, but without any of the pain. I sit up, my stomach tight, my body tight, toes curled in my heels, hands digging into Slick’s shoulder, as the pleasure concentrates into a tiny ball inside my pussy, and then explodes. The explosion sends shards of pleasure throughout my body, to my toes, to my fingertips, and I scream. I don’t care who might hear, not right now. I throw my head back and scream, squirting thick white come all over Slick’s fingers, feeling myself come all over his hand, the pleasure immense, blotting out everything. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moan, as another explosion hits me, and I squirt even more over his fingers. I grab his wrist, pushing him deeper inside of me, tilting my hips to get the angle just perfect, and then the orgasm gives me one last mini-explosion, the come pouring, my pussy aching and content and tired all at once. My head is foggy from the alcohol and the pleasure. Maybe that’s why I make the mistake.

“I’m so glad we have a daughter together,” I say . . .

Wait, what? Why the fuck did I just say that?

“Wait, what?” Slick says, as though reading my mind.

“I . . .”

I open my eyes and watch Slick, who takes a step away from me, rubbing his hand against his jeans.

“Give me my keys, Brat,” he says, “and get off my bike.”

His tone is different, dark, troubled somehow. I find myself climbing down from the bike and handing him the keys. After what we just did, I’m amazed by how cold we’ve suddenly become.

“I need to go,” he mutters, climbing onto the bike. “I need to think.”

“You’re just going to leave me, now, really?” The anger returns, and already the orgasm seems very far away. “We need to talk about this, Slick!”

“I . . . I can’t. I’m sorry, Brat.”

He starts the engine, and before I can say another word, screeches out of the parking lot.

I’m left here, angry, confused, annoyed. Annoyed with myself mostly for letting it slip at a time like that, but also annoyed with Slick for running away.

But there’s nothing I can do but pull up my panties and call a cab, which is what I do.

I know one thing for sure: there’s no way I’m telling Heather about any of this.

Slick

They kept us in a cold dark warehouse on the outskirts of the dock proper. When I pressed my ear to the wall of my cell, I could hear the sloshing of water and the shouting of men and the crunching of crates. But no matter how much we shouted—and we did shout, all forty of us—nobody ever came to check. Either the Flaming Skulls had sound-proofed the place or they’d paid the dock authorities to ignore the empty warehouse where nobody ever strayed. It didn’t matter to me; my world was the same either way. In the morning somebody pushed a plate of slop through the gap in my cell, I ate, and then I read. At lunchtime, it was the same, and it was the same at dinnertime, too. Over and over. Reading, eating, sleeping. The only time there was a break in the routine was when the Skulls wanted to have some fun.

It was about six months into my imprisonment when I first got my hands really dirty: when I was forced to get my hands dirty. A man wearing a mask—all those bastards wore masks—barged into my cell one day with a shotgun aimed at my face. He dragged me by the collar of my ragged shirt and brought me into the warehouse storage area, a huge empty cavern where all forty of us were gathered. We were enemies of the Skulls, or just playthings: bikers, like me, or personal enemies of the Skulls’ members, or just people picked up to have some fun with, programmers and cleaners and teachers, civilians. We were all forced to sit on the floor for a long time, perhaps around half a day, with nothing to eat, shivering ’cause it was the middle of winter and this place had no heating. Masked men surrounded us, each one holding a shotgun, each one willing to fire if anybody tried anything. They’d proved that before.

Finally, he came out. I had no clue which he he was, but it was the Masked Man. The normal masks the men wore were just balaclavas. The Masked Man wore a full-face tribal mask carved from wood with a deranged smile and two pointed horns. Only his eyes and lips were visible through the mask. This, with his voice, proved that the man changed. But it didn’t matter; each Masked Man was a fucking animal.

I was in agony as we sat there on the concrete. Just two weeks before, I’d been cut with a machete like butcher’s meat, and just a week before that, I’d been shot. I was fucked, sure I was gonna die, certain I was near the end. They wanted me to ride with ’em in exchange for the torture to stop, but I was holding out—for now. At first I was going to agree, until I learned riding with them would give me no chance of escape. They already had a traitor with them, and he was guarded twenty-four-seven from what I’d heard on the prisoner grapevine. Anyway, I couldn’t betray the club, not my father’s club, not Brat’s club. I was a brave goddamn bastard: a brave goddamn idiot.

The Masked Man stood in front of the shivering prisoners, raised his hands like a warped version of a preacher, and shouted over us:

“Listen to me, you fucking rats. I am getting sick and tired of listening to your weeping every goddamn night of my goddamn life. Seriously, do any of you have any self-respect left? Do any of you understand what it is to be a man, and not a goddamn joke? Half of you are babies, not men, and the other half are barely better than that. So, since your crying is the worst thing I’ve ever been forced to listen to, I’ve come up with a way to sort it out. See, we Skulls get shit done, not like you wasted rats, you pieces of shit. Here’s what we’re going to do: cut our numbers down.” When he said this, the prisoners started to grumble and panic. They shut up when the Masked Man fired a shot into the air. “Don’t worry,” he went on, waving his pistol. “I’m a fair man—we’re all fair men—so we’re going to allow you to fight for your lives. We’re not monsters, you know. Twenty versus twenty, one by one, and whichever team destroys the other team first, wins!” Before anyone could protest, he waved a hand at the guards. “Okay, get them up and split them into teams.”

Somehow, I managed to climb to my feet, my body wracked with agony, my back burning from the bullet hole and the machete cut only just starting to heal. I limped to the left of the cavern, joining a huddle of shaking and terrified men. Looking across to the right, I saw that I’d been put on the weaker side. My team was made up of what looked like accountants and office workers: pudgy, thin, weak men, men who have never had to fight a day in their life. On the other side of the room, the bikers gathered, already limbering up.

I wanted to give some speech, but what sort of damn speech can you give to the inhabitants of hell? Anyway, I was in too much pain for any kind of heroics, so I just waited for the guards to pick the first two fighters. The selection was made quickly and one of the bikers went up against the man who looked like a banker, with his wire-frame glasses and torn business shirt. I reckon he’d slept in that shirt for a few months at least.

The fight went the only way it could, with the biker pommeling the man into the concrete. When the victor had been declared, one of the guards fired a shot into the loser’s head for good measure, and then dragged his body away. I was lucky; I wasn’t chosen until the other team had been whittled down, mostly by luck, to around fifteen. Two bikers remained on their side. The rest were the same as my side, civilian types. A shotgun prodded me between the shoulder blades, pushing me toward the center of the room, and the Masked Man shouted out: “Ah, what a battle we have in store for us! Look here, a Road Rager will now face a Hanged Man! A fight for the ages!”

The man opposite me was wide, and burly, and looked like he knew how to handle himself. His nose was flat from where it had been broken in a dozen places, and his lips were cracked and creviced from lack of water. I wondered if I looked as fucked as him.

“Fight!”

He charged at me, and instinct kicked in. I don’t reckon I’ll ever know how the hell I fought this man so quickly, so efficiently. He was bigger than me and he didn’t have two wounds dragging him down, and yet as he came at me, I ducked the blow, spun around, and elbowed him in the back of the head. Survival urged me on, and I launched myself at his back as he staggered, gripping his neck and tackling him to the floor before smashing his face repeatedly into the concrete.

“Wow!” the Masked Man called. “What a hero!”

I stood up, panting. My back had started to bleed again. I began to limp toward my team’s side of the cavern, grateful for a rest. But then the Masked Man roared: “Get that one back in the fight! I want to see how long he can go before he falls!”

I had no choice but to return to the bloodshed, the violence. I had no choice but to fight the next man. It started as a joke for the Flaming Skulls and the Masked Man. They thought that I’d fight a couple of men and then my wounds would take me. I thought the same thing; I didn’t think I could go for as long as I did. But at some point, I switched off my mind and I ignored the pain and I let my body take over. I just fought: biting, punching, spitting, hissing, growling, bloody, dirty fighting. I fought and I killed. I lost myself in an ocean of blood. Each time I beat a man, more blood was added to my face, until I was completely covered in it, head to toe, slick with it. My mind distanced itself, and my wounds screamed in agony, and yet I fought on. At first, the Skulls laughed in the way a bully will laugh at his victim putting on a bit of a show. Then the laughter stopped and was replaced with eerie curiosity. Finally, grim fascination came over them.

Toward the end, after I had killed all but two of the other team, the men limping out were scared to face me, despite how I wobbled on the spot, despite how exhausted I was. They would say things like, “I have children.” But it was them or me. I knew that just by looking around. I knew that just from the barrels of the guns, staring me down.

And—and—

“No, no, no,” I mumble, bolting upright, the image of the poor fucker’s face still cemented in my mind. He was just some guy, just some normal goddamn guy from a normal goddamn life, and I beat his face into the ground and they shot him right in the head. “No.” I shake my head, climbing out of bed, and begin to pace up and down my bedroom.

This apartment is small, not much good for pacing, but I have to keep moving. If I stop, if I let the dreams catch up, they’ll haunt me for the rest of the life. The clock tells me that it’s three in the morning. I sit on the edge of the bed, foot tapping. A few apartments over, somebody is having sex. Out in the street, a cat screeches. My room is dark except for the light of the digital clock and a pale shadow of moonlight on my drawn blinds. The memory returns to me, of how I punched that man’s face into pulp. And then . . .

I had no choice but to ride with them. It was ride with them, or die. They called me the Beast, and they said they wouldn’t put the Beast back in a cage, but neither would they allow the Beast to go free. So I rode with them, and I did the fucking Skulls’ bidding, and I wore their patch. I clench my fists, hating myself, hating the memories. And when Grizzly came up, they’d put me back in the cage, all for show, all for goddamn show.

I was powerless. Powerless. Weak. Alone. Afraid. Before the imprisonment, the pain, the death, I thought I was invincible. It’s a violent reckoning for a man to find out just how wrong he is about that.

“I will never be powerless again,” I mutter, lying back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I will never be a pawn again, for the rest of my fuckin’ life. I will become VP. I will climb the fuckin’ ranks.”

I often do this after I wake from the nightmares: reassure myself by repeating what I will do, repeating it just as I did every night when I was under the Skulls’ watch. I was allowed to sleep in a bed, eat food, build myself up, but at all times there were three men guarding me, and I was never allowed to hold a gun.

“No,” I mutter bitterly, wishing that I could wipe my memory of all the awful shit I did, and knowing that I’ll never find forgiveness for it, not even with Brat, despite what she might say. “No, they wanted the Beast to use his hands, didn’t they? Like a fuckin’ animal.”

I take my cell from the nightstand. Bri still hasn’t returned any of my calls or texts. Guess she’s pissed.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” I whisper, sitting up and staring down at my hands.

I know it’s the darkness, but for a moment I’m sure they’re dripping with blood.

Slick

I try and go back to sleep for a while, but I know it’s no good. The memories are too much to handle alone at night; when I’m just lying there, it’s hard to think of anything else. So I go into the kitchen—through the bare apartment, without even a TV or a couch—and make myself some coffee. I try not to think about Seattle, and so instinctively my mind turns to Brat, as it always does. It’s been a week since the parking lot, a week in which she’s avoided me at every turn. I guess she’s angry, I reflect as I sit on the one stool I own, drinking my coffee, thinking. Angry at the way I left . . . But she doesn’t know what having a kid means for a man like me. How can I, the Beast, the blood-covered animal, have a kid? How can somethin’ as precious as a child belong to me?

The coffee swirls around my head, waking me up, as I wonder what the hell Bri was thinking not telling me the kid was mine right away. I had my suspicions, sure, but why wouldn’t she just come out with it? Why would she let it linger like that for so long? How can she be so damn pissed with me when she sprung it on me like that, out of the fuckin’ blue? I know one thing for certain: if she says the kid is mine, the kid is mine. Brat would never lie about a thing like that.

After my coffee, I start working out with my free weights. Bench-press, dumbbell-press, bicep-curl, sit-ups, triceps-extensions, pull-ups, over and over, until it’s six in the morning and the sun is beginning to rise, people in the apartments around me stirring into action, opening and closing doors, whistling kettles, turning on radios and TVs. I take a shower, focusing on Bri, just Bri, and thrusting aside any thoughts of blood and the Beast, the Masked Man and the Flaming Skulls’ leather I was forced to wear.

I need to speak with Bri, ’cause she’s the only one, when you get right down to it, who I can count on. There’s Spike, and a couple of the fellas Grizzly gave to me, but Brat has been with me for decades, my friend, and then my admirer, and then my lover. I need her. Without her, I reckon these nightmares will take me over; I reckon that, if I had to go on without Brat, I might be nothin’ more than the Beast they made me.

I return to my bedroom, get dressed, and then look down at my Road Rage leather. I was a damn fool to leave it at the bar, but Spike’s a good kid. He brought it to me the next day, and Clint and Grizzly were none the wiser. Still, as I stare down at it, laid on my bed ready for me to put on, I get the sense that I shouldn’t even be allowed to wear it anymore. I’ve thought this a few times since I returned. Whereas when I was a kid I never doubted that I’d one day join the MC, now, after everything I’ve done, I feel dirty as I pull the jacket on. I tell myself I was forced to do those things, tell myself there were three guns to my head when I rode with the Skulls, tell myself there were dozens of guns on me when I bathed in blood. But petty self-told words ain’t much use when you’ve got an aching in your chest like your heart is trying to kill you.

Pushing all my feelings down—’cause in the end, that’s all a man like me can really do—I pull on the jacket, and then pull on my boots. I need to see Brat; I need to talk with her. I shouldn’t have left her like that, just up and rode away like I’m some sort of monster . . . but that’s the point, I reflect with a bitter laugh. Brat is precious, beautiful, funny, untouched by the bad shit that lurks in the dark. How can a man like me, a Beast , ever truly be with a woman like that—

“Stop it,” I growl, making for the door. “Just fuckin’ stop it.”

By the time I leave, it’s around seven in the morning. I go to a diner and eat a small breakfast with a side of black coffee, tossing it back, letting the caffeine do its work. Drinkin’ too much coffee, lately, but it’s all I can do to fight off the tiredness, the never-ending tiredness because those damn nightmares never leave me be. When I leave the diner, the sun has fully risen, bathing Denver in light, and as I ride toward the clubhouse, I begin to feel a little less dark. The nights are always the worst; the nights drag me back into the past. The days, I can deal with.

I haven’t checked for Bri at the clubhouse this past week, though it’s obviously the best place to check for her. Clint still has it out for me, and I prefer the Irishman to handle my business. But I can’t go another week, hell, another day, without seeing Brat. We need to hash this shit out. I need to let her know that, if she’ll have me, I’ll try and do right by her and the kid. I don’t know how good I’ll be at it, but I’ll give it a go. Maybe I won’t be the hands-on type, but I can provide for the kid, at least, make sure she never wants for anything. That’s gotta count for something, hasn’t it? And when I’m VP, I’ll be able to provide for her all the more. I’m going over all of this, trying to get it straight in my head, when I pull into the clubhouse parking lot. The lot is almost empty except for the bikes of the men who stay in the dormitory. I step off my bike, nicely sore from my workout, and make my way across the lot to the garage.

When I see Brat, my breath catches. I’m not really the breath-catching sort of guy, and anyway I thought all that sentimental stuff was taken from me in Seattle, but when I see her, back turned to me, hair all mussy around her head, I can’t help it. It’s still a shock to see her like this, a proper woman, with her long hair and her curvy body. But that’s not the only thing that shocks me; she has her back to me, hunched over, cradling something which is either a tool or a baby. And the last I checked, tools don’t make cooing noises. I take a step forward, quietly, not wanting to disturb the scene. For a while, I just watch.

“Who’s my little angel?” Bri says, giggling.

The little angel in her arms giggles right back.

“Who’s my little angel ?” Bri brings her face close to the baby’s, and the baby giggles even louder. It’s a sweet sound—and a terrifying one. Sweet ’cause I know that the angel making it is mine, came from me, and terrifying for the exact same reason. She can’t be giggling so sweetly, not something that came from me. Something that came from has to be bad, surely, has to be fucked just like I’m fucked.

“Brat,” I whisper.

Bri starts, and then turns with the child in her arms. The girl is wearing a pink onesie and a cape of some kind made out of soft-looking fabric. Her hair is thin, and the same coppery-ginger colors as Brat’s, but her eyes are what capture me the most. They are wide, and blue: sky-blue, just like mine. I stare at those eyes for what feels like minutes, but is truly only seconds, and the girl stares right back. There is something tragic about the way the child stares at me, as though she can almost comprehend who I am, as though somewhere in there is an instinct calling out to me. Or maybe that’s only my imagination. Maybe that’s only wishful thinking.

“Momma—”

“Look, Charlotte,” Bri says, pointing at me. “Dadda.”

Charlotte stares at me, but of course there’s no recognition in her gaze. She doesn’t reach out for me or try to go to me. I try not to let that hurt me, but it does, that’s the truth, because it gets me thinking about all that could’ve been, had I not gone to Seattle and had the humanity beaten and shot and cut out of me.

“She knows you,” Bri says, stroking Charlotte’s hair.

“She doesn’t,” I say. “She just sees another man—a man like any other.”

I swallow. Damn, this hurts. This really fuckin’ hurts way more than I ever could’ve anticipated.

“She does,” Bri insists. “Just give her time and—”

She stops talking, eyes going wide, looking not at me but over my shoulder. Instinct causes me to spin on my heels, reach for my gun in my jacket holster. In my experience, people sneaking up on you never wish you good. I pull out my pistol, spin, and wind up aiming it straight at Clint and his two cronies. None of them are wearing masks this time, but I only vaguely recognize the men. Road Rage is a sizeable club and for the past couple of weeks I’ve been at the Irishman with my own coterie. The men behind Clint are dangerous-looking, one of them with a scar across his neck, the other with two of his fingers missing, but still somehow managing to grip a knuckle-duster.

“Are you going to shoot me, Skylar?” Clint says.

From behind me, Bri gasps; that’s how rare it is for any club member to use my given name. It’s disrespectful. Worse than that, it’s purposefully disrespectful. It’s the sort of thing I’ve seen men tear chunks out of each other for, just so word doesn’t get around that he can be disrespected with no consequences. But I can’t tear chunks out of Clint or his men. It’d give him the reason he needs to get me kicked out of the club, and plus, my goddamn daughter is behind me, making a small confused cooing noise. “Mamma? Mamma?” she babbles.

I lower the gun. “What do you want?” I ask, keeping my voice level.

“I don’t want anything,” Clint says. “But Grizzly does. He wants to talk to you.” The men behind him shift restlessly, as though wanting me to refuse so they can prove their worth. “At home,” Clint adds.

“At his house?” I mutter, confused. Grizzly never has the men at his house unless the business is really serious. “What for?”

“I don’t make a habit of questioning—” Clint begins, but Brat interrupts.

“What does Dad want with Slick?” she says. She stands beside me, holding Charlotte, which makes the tough men glance at each other awkwardly. Only the meanest bastards in the world would still be willing to go in on a man when he’s standing next to a kid, and whatever Clint may be, I doubt he’s been able to warp any Rager into a bastard that mean.

“He didn’t say, precisely,” Clint mutters, waving a hand as though he can wave Bri out of the conversation. “And frankly, Brianna, I don’t see how that is any of your business—”

“It is my business!” Bri snaps, overriding him. “It is my business because Slick is my friend, Grizzly is my father, and I work for the club! So it is absolutely my business! In fact, if you’re taking Slick to the house, I’m coming with him.”

Clint makes to laugh, but Bri doesn’t look or sound like she’s joking. “I mean it!” she goes on, as Charlotte babbles Mamma-Mamma-Mamma . “What are you thinking, Clint, coming here like this, with two men, acting all tough? So you followed Slick, I’m guessing, but when he came here, did you really need to walk in like this, when I had my kid with me? I wonder how Dad would feel to learn his second-in-command brought two of his thugs into contact with his granddaughter.”

That seals it. I see the moment on Clint’s face, a twitching of his features. “Fine,” he says. “If you’re going to be like that, then come on. But all of us better get going. He’s waiting.”

I watch, impressed, as Brat stands up to Clint. I watch as she stares down three violent bikers, and once again I’ve got to do a double-take to check this is truly Brat. Soon, the five of us are walking across the parking lot, Bri to her car and me to my bike, but not before I offer her a tight smile, hoping to communicate, “Are we good, now?”

Either she doesn’t see, or she can’t bring herself to answer. One thing’s clear, though. I’ve found someone who hates Clint’s bullshit just as much as me.

Slick

Grizzly’s house has been in his family for generations. It’s a large, colonial style mansion with an American flag fluttering in the breeze, tall and proud, with a triangular roof and a huge, dominating porch. It’s one of those houses you see in historical movies about the Civil War, and wouldn’t think twice about: might even think the set guys built the house especially. I stop my bike behind Clint’s and Brat’s cars, in the long, wide stone driveway, and then the five of us approach Grizzly. He sits on the porch, in a rocking chair, rolling a cigarette. By the time we reach him, since the walk across his garden is so long, he’s finished rolling and is smoking, flicking the ash into an ashtray not as old as the house, but still pretty old. It’s shaped like a skull, and was a present to Grizzly from my father.

Finally, the five of us are standing on the porch around Grizzly. We wait as he leisurely smokes his cigarette. He’s taking his sweet time, trying to make me nervous. Well, if that’s the case, he’s succeeding, but only a little. I’m curious more than anything. I’ve been making the club more money since Grizzly gave me my own team, been increasing everybody’s pay, and here he is playing the tension game. Brat takes Charlotte to the other side of the porch, waiting for Grizzly to finish his cigarette, and returns only when he’s stubbed it out in the skull ashtray. All through this, Clint gives me looks like a brother who’s about to see his sibling get a good telling-off, a pathetic, wormy look.

“Slick,” Grizzly says. I notice that he avoids looking at Bri or his granddaughter, maybe because he knows that she’s mine, or maybe because he can’t bear to look at her when he’s doing the tough routine. It’s clear, from the way he glances angrily at Clint, that he doesn’t want her here. But it would ruin his effect if he made a big deal out of it. So he just goes on: “Slick, I need to talk to you about how much time you’re spending with my daughter.”

“What!” Bri snaps, straightaway, voice cutting through the tension like a hot steak knife. “I’m standing right here, Dad, you don’t need to talk about me like that! You’re so solemn and overbearing and—and—this isn’t the fifties, you know! It’s twenty-seventeen!”

Grizzly shifts, ignoring her, and presses on: “You were seen riding with my daughter a couple of weeks ago, into the mountains, and were seen with her at a bar called the Irishman . The man who told me about that encounter was nice enough to leave out the unsavory details. Maybe he knew how I’d react if I found out the truth.”

“Dad—”

“Quiet!” Grizzly snaps, looking at her for the first time, face screwed up in annoyance.

“Oh, real nice,” Bri mutters, as Charlotte begins to whimper. “Make your granddaughter cry!”

Bri moves away from the group, whispering to her daughter—hell, our daughter. Clint makes a small laughing sound, a snigger like he’s happy to see the baby crying. I want to smash his nose into his face, but Grizzly goes on: “Look, Slick, if you wanted to be with my daughter, it would be the manly thing to come and talk to me about it first. But instead, you’ve just gone ahead and behaved as you see fit.” He pauses, rubbing his head. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Only that I was in prison for two years and now I’m back you wanna put shackles on me again, Boss.”

“Don’t talk to him like that, you insolent shit!” Clint screeches, making as though to strike me.

Grizzly holds up his hand, glancing at Clint like he wishes he, as well as Bri, was not here. “You want to make a name for yourself in the club,” Grizzly says.

I think about these past years, the powerlessness, being told what to do, where to ride, who to kill. If I was VP . . . “More than anything, Boss.”

Grizzly allows himself a smile at that, but a small, bitter smile. The sort of smile a man might give you before stabbing you in the stomach, as if to tell you he respects you, but he has to cause the damage anyhow.

“But you have reservations about the club,” Grizzly says, watching me closely.

I think about keeping them to myself, but this is the time, if there ever is going to be a time, to tell him what I think is going on. I swallow, knowing that this could cause me to be cast out from the club. “Boss,” I say, “I think Clint’s gathering men around himself in an attempt to take power away from you. Just think about it—”

“Now hang on a minute!”

“Just think about it,” I go on, louder, talking over Clint. “Why does he always have his own personal guard? Why does he have men who will go to him before they come to you? Where does he get his arrogance from, his sense of entitlement? The way I see it, Clint is trying to make it so the club doesn’t need you anymore. He’s trying to make it so, one day, he can make a bid for President.”

Clint blusters all through my speech, but I just raise my voice and talk over him. Grizzly watches me with an unreadable expression. Clint makes to speak when I’ve finished, but Grizzly swipes his hand, silencing him. For a long time, Grizzly watches me, and then he says, “You two.” He turns to the two goons standing behind Clint, like two guardian angels who’ve been in the ring a few too many times. “If I were to tell you, right now, to beat Clint until his legs didn’t work, what’d you do?”

The eight-fingered man mutters, “We’d do it, Boss.”

“And if I were to tell you,” Grizzly goes on, “to put a bullet in the back of Clint’s head, what would you do?”

The scarred man says, “Do it, Boss.”

Clint, shifting uncomfortably, murmurs, “Let’s hope it never comes to that, Boss.” He smiles, but it’s forced, false.

“You see?” Grizzly says, facing me again. “If that’s not loyalty, what is?”

When I try to speak, Grizzly swipes his hand again. That’s the power this man has . . . but his power has blinded him, I see. He thinks he’s invincible. But still, he is the Boss, and I need him on my side if I’m ever going to get anywhere in the MC.

“You want to advance,” Grizzly says. “Fine. Good. Then do it like your father did it. Not by throwing around baseless accusations, but by working hard, climbing up the ranks.” When he mentions my dad, memories rush into me, the way they will when they’ve been ignored for a long time. I remember crying when Dad died, weeping like my eyes were burning with acid, and then I remember Grizzly, brown-haired then, lifting me up and telling me it’d be okay, telling me he’d take care of me. I remember this man, my new father, making good on his promise. I remember him schooling me, teaching me, raising me. I remember hundreds of times looking to this man for guidance, and so right now, I cannot just ignore what he’s telling me. The roots go too deep.

“I’m doing that, with the men, the warehouses . . .”

“Yeah, and you’re doing a damn good job. But I need you to deliver a package to another club. I need you to be a courier one more time.”

I bristle, annoyed, but I can’t exactly say no. The deck has been stacked against me, bringing me here like this. “What club?” I ask, not that it matters much.

“The Flaming Skulls MC,” Grizzly says.

I take a step back, memories hitting me again, but dark, warped memories, memories dripping red.

“Wait,” Grizzly says, voice low, glancing across the porch to Brat, who is rocking Charlotte back and forth trying to get her to sleep. “It’s not like that, Slick. Let me explain.”

Slowly, he stands up. “I need to talk to Slick alone,” he announces. “Wait here everyone.”

He gestures for me to follow. I do so, and in the house he explains it all to me, explains the danger of the trip, explains the risk, explains the timings, and ten minutes later when we return to the porch, I’ve got a feeling of fierce determination inside of me, revenge aching in my chest, fists clenched, jaws clenched. This will be a huge task for the club, but there’s more to it than that, ’cause it’ll mean vengeance on the men who spent two years torturing me, it’ll mean obliterating the Masked Man and all his sadistic bullshit.

“I’ll go to Seattle,” I say, clicking my neck from side to side. “I’ll deliver the damn package.”

“You will,” Grizzly agrees, patting me on the back.

“Wait!” Bri whispers urgently, as though she wants to shout but can’t because Charlotte is finally asleep. “What are you doing—going back there? You can’t go back there, Slick! Think what happened to you last time! Think about how long you were gone. Do you really want to miss out on two more years of—” She cuts herself short, looking at her father, but I know what she was about to say. Do I really want to miss out on two more years of our daughter’s life?

The answer is no, and the question makes me want to turn away from the life and run into the mountains and make a nice, quiet life with Bri and Charlotte. But then I remember the pain, and the heat, and the blades, and the hate. I remember hunching in wintertime over a book so cold the pages were icy to the touch. I remember my piss freezing in the bucket they gave me instead of a toilet. I remember the night of blood, and how something died inside of me. I remember riding with them, being forced to betray my father’s legacy. All of this, none of which anybody but me knows, comes to me, and I know I can’t refuse this task.

“I have to do this, Bri,” I say, all too aware of the men around us, judging us, especially Grizzly. He doesn’t look too pleased that I’m even talking to his daughter, let alone in such an intimate way. I shrug, and go on in a sterner tone, “The club is the most important thing. It was the most important thing to my father, and it’s the most important thing to me.”

“Be at the club tonight; they’re expecting the package late tomorrow. You’ll have to ride all night and all the next day, it’ll be tough, but I know you’re up to it.” Grizzly drops into his seat, and that ends the matter.

I head to my bike, and Bri heads to her car, but Clint and his goons stay behind to settle some business with Grizzly. So when Bri signals to me that she’s pulling over with her blinkers, there’s no one around to stop me from joining her. She climbs from the car, face red, and waits for me to join her. Charlotte is in the back, in her car seat, swaddled with what looks like a thousand belts. When I reach her, she makes as though to slap me across the face. I catch her wrist.

“You’re going back!” she hisses, voice breaking. “After everything that happened to you over there—”

“You don’t know what happened to me over there!” I growl, dropping her hand and taking a step away from her. “Nobody but me and the fucks that did it knows what happened to me over there, Bri, and it’s them I’ve got a meeting with.”

Traffic whizzes by us so that Bri has to shout, her voice whipping in the wind. “Do you know how much I missed you when you were gone, Slick? Every single night I dreamt of you!” She flushes, but presses on: “Every night I dreamt of you! Every night I was never sure if you were going to come back to me! Every night you were gone, a piece of me died. Every night you were gone, I felt myself turning to—turning to dust!” She stops, panting, words failing her.

“This is for the club,” I say, turning away. “This is for the club and those fucking bastards up in Seattle who tried to take the club away from me.”

“What’s in the package, Slick?” she calls at my back.

“Death,” I mutter, climbing on my bike and ignoring the way she stares at me, arms at her sides, like she expects me to be the hero and climb off the bike and go to her and wrap my arms around her and make everything okay.

When will she realize that I’ve never been the hero?

I kick my bike into life, and ride away.

Bri

I tell Heather that I may be away for a couple of days, give her money for daycare, and then wait on the outskirts of the club on my motorbike, helmet visor pulled down, wearing dark plain leathers which will, hopefully, hide my identity. The sun is setting as I sit here, waiting for Slick’s bike to race by, a pit in my stomach. I don’t want to leave Denver, leave my daughter—and Heather gave me hell about it—but I won’t let Slick go to Seattle all over again, not alone. If the Flaming Skulls take him captive, this time there needs to be a witness; this time we need to get him free immediately, not after two long years.

Soon, Slick’s bike zooms past, going at least eighty miles per hour. I kick mine into gear and growl after him. I stay a few cars behind him on the freeway, head low, watching as he weaves between the traffic. The night is bright with stars and moonlight, and pretty soon I get the feeling that Slick knows he’s being followed, though not by whom. If he knew it was me, I doubt he’d be ducking and weaving like he is, giving me a good chase, making me exercise my biking muscles. I ride between trucks, duck behind cars, bob in and out of lanes, keeping up with Slick every step of the way. He keeps this performance up well into midnight, and then slows down and cruises. Perhaps he no longer sees me—I’ve dropped far back, keeping him just within my view—or perhaps he just doesn’t see me as a threat. I smile to myself, despite the danger, wondering how he’d react if he knew that Brat was keeping up with the master courier.

I may keep up with him, but I get a whole new respect for him as we ride. Night deepens, and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look like he might stop. Then, as though minutes not hours have passed, the sun is rising and still he doesn’t stop. I suppress dozens of yawns, telling myself I can ride just as well as him . . . and then for the rest of the following day, he keeps on, non-stop. I begin to get tired, but I tell myself that if I stop, and if he gets taken, it’ll be my fault. Nobody will know; I won’t be able to bring the cavalry in. So I keep on, gritting my teeth, feeling myself become the tomboy I was for so long, when Slick and I used to ride dirtbikes and quadbikes around the mountains, danger and tiredness the furthest things from our mind.

Time seems to bend as we ride, midday coming and then afternoon and then evening again, and I’m so tired and so determined that I barely notice any of my surroundings. I don’t notice the change in the roads, or the cars, or the road signs. I just keep my eye on Slick, promising myself I won’t let him out of my view. And then, somehow, it is almost midnight again and we are stopping near Seattle’s docks.

I pull up out of view, six or so warehouses down from where Slick stops near the water. When I step from the bike, my legs, my back, my arms—everything in my body screams out its punishment. Everything in my body tells me I’m an idiot for following the Road Rage’s best courier. But still, aching body or no, I have to admit I’m proud. Once I’ve worked the kinks out of my body, eaten a couple of energy bars and washed it down with bottled water, I crouch down behind a crate and watch Slick.

The docks are dead this time of night, the moon reflecting off the torpid water, a deep night-blue. Slick stands on the edge of the water, a suitcase in his hands, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his hands. Slick has always had an animal look about him, but now it is exaggerated. He looks like a lion about to make a kill, the way he shifts his muscles, the way he moves. I can’t see his face from here, but I can imagine the intensity of it. Throughout all his movements, however, he is careful with the suitcase, so careful that I begin to wonder if there’s something dangerous in there . . .

“A bomb,” I whisper. “God help me, don’t say it’s a bomb.”

Slick turns at the sound of somebody’s voice. Men spill onto the dock, dozens of men, and I creep closer, from my hiding place to another hiding place about a dozen yards ahead: a pile of discarded netting, heaped up, which I lie down behind.

“Look who it is,” a man is saying, a man with a vicious, mean voice.

“Oh, wow . . .” Another man sniggers. “It didn’t take you long to return, did it, Slick? Did you really miss us so much?”

“I want to say one thing to all of you,” Slick says, his voice dark, his tone steady.

“What?” a man snaps. “What you talkin’ about? Are they the diamonds?”

“You tried to break me,” Slick says, in that same intense, calm, deadly voice. “And you failed. You tried to warp me, and you failed. You tried to turn me into a monster, and you failed. Now—”

“What the fuck’s in that package you son of a bitch—”

Suddenly, the sky blazes orange-yellow, a plume of light blotting the stars. The sound is like the world breaking in half, the wood of the dock shattering, and the smell of smoke and flesh reaches me, dim from my place over here, but definitely there. I place my hands over my ears, wincing at the sound of the explosion, and bury my face in the netting.

I close my eyes to the explosion, as the dock is torn near in half, and as men die screaming and roaring in agony. To my side, a man sprints, spouting flames and charging madly for the water, only he must now be blind, because he charges straight into an old broken crate instead. I crouch away, shimmy along what remains of the dock, and peer through the devastation. My ears are ringing, my eyes stinging and red with smoke, my face warm as though I have sunburn. Parts of the dock hiss as they crumble into the water, their flames dying.

I should be running. I should be thinking of my daughter and sprinting as fast as I can away from this mayhem, not toward it, but I keep thinking of Slick, keep wondering if one of these pieces of severed flesh belongs to him. I can’t bear the thought, and so I find some bravery in me I didn’t know I had. Or maybe it’s stupidity. I’m not sure. Whatever it is, I move through the smoke, calling his name over and over. “Slick! Slick! Slick!” I step on mulchy, bloody patches of what used to be Flaming Skulls, have to jump more than once to avoid falling into the sea, and choke on the smoke, wheezing with each breath. “Slick! Slick—” I keel over, coughing, as a spot off to my left goes up in flames. Whoosh , and a tower of fire rises into the air.

I have no choice but to back away, but backing away means leaving Slick behind, backing away means leaving the father of my child behind. I think of him, not just how he is now but how he was as a kid, the older kid with the bright blue eyes and the protective attitude, taking me into the mountains to ride and play like a boy. Now he might be lying here, facedown, as dead as the Skulls are dead. Tears sting my eyes, slide down my cheeks, and I know it’s not just from the smoke. I want to collapse to my knees and weep—and maybe I would, if Charlotte was not waiting for me—but instead I turn around and stumble away from the smoke, back toward my bike. The further I get away from the heart of the destruction, the more my vision clears, until I am standing on the opposite side gasping in breaths and watching as one remaining man stumbles in a circle, confused, dazed, burning.

“Slick!” I shout, voice hoarse. “Slick! Please, Slick!” Through the hissing water, the spitting flames, the moaning dying, I am sure I hear the dim ringing of sirens, growing louder. Soon, they’ll be here, the flashing lights my family has ignored for as long as I can remember. They’ll question me, which might lead to the club, and eventually my daughter . . . I can’t let that happen. I am crying openly now, as I limp toward my bike, images of Slick’s fire-charred exploded body forefront in my mind. I have to go, though; there’s no other choice. I’m not sure if that’s true or if it’s just what I’m telling myself.

I’m about to climb onto my bike when I see it: a Slick-sized blur of shadow, a few yards out in the water, swimming toward the docks. I know it could be my mind playing tricks on me, and I know I should just go, but even the remote possibility that it might be Slick is something I can’t ignore. I kick my bike alive, and cruise to the edge of the dock.

“Slick?” I call uncertainly.

“Bri—Brat—Bri!” Slick calls back, gargling water.

“Slick!” I scream, kicking my stand and jumping from my bike. “Are you hurt?”

“Just a headache,” he calls up to me. “I jumped, before it exploded, but—A bit of shrapnel or somethin’. Can you help me up? I feel like a fuckin’ twelve-gauge just went off next to my goddamn ear.”

I lie flat on the dock and reach my arm into the darkness below. The flames have died down now, providing no light. Slick’s hand is wet and cold, but it’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever touched. Going from assuming he’s dead to knowing he’s alive in the space of a few minutes is enough to make me want to burst into tears all over again. But the sirens are blaring, and we need to go.

“You’re heavy.” My muscles strain as I pull. I know I’m not even pulling half his weight. He has his arm hooked around the metal frame of the dock foundations, and is hauling himself up as I haul him.

Slick stumbles onto the docks, collapsing on his front, panting. The side of his head is covered in blood, but when I examine the wound, I see nothing but a bruise. No cuts, no punctures.

“Tired,” Slick mutters.

“Yeah, I bet,” I reply, helping him to his feet.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks, as I climb onto the bike. “How the hell’d you get here?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” I say. “Just get on.”

He has no choice, and does as I say.

“It feels damn strange to have my arms round you like this, Brat,” he says. “Like I’m the damn woman or somethin’.”

“Well, I’ve always been a tomboy. Maybe it’s time you tried.”

“Fuck that.” He snorts. “Just get us the fuck outta here before my dick turns into a pussy.”

“You’re disgusting.”

I cruise along the docks, making sure not to go too fast just in case somebody sees and thinks we’re fleeing, and soon I’m riding to the outskirts of the city. The sirens grow quieter, being replaced with the mundane, welcome noises of honking horns and humming traffic. I take us to a deadbeat motel, the sort of place with neon letters which stopped working sometime around the turn of the century and a communal pool with more condoms cigarette butts moving across the water than floats.

“Wait here while I get a room,” I say.

I expect him to argue—Slick has always liked to be in control—but he just leans against the wall, staring at the ground as though replaying the explosive moment in his head, dripping water. I know it’s my imagination, but before I leave him I’m sure I see a flicker of flame in his sky-blue eyes.

Bri

When I’ve patched Slick up, ordered some takeout, and both of us have washed, we sit on the edge of the bed in silence, Slick in his dried, crisp clothes. It’s early morning, but for a long time, neither of us is tired. For most of the night Slick has been like a zombie, blandly staring off into space, but slowly he comes back to himself. The room is bare except for the takeout containers, an old box TV set, and some peeling wallpaper. It’s such an everyday setting it’s difficult for me to believe that not that long ago, we were at the scene of an earth-shaking explosion. I turned the news on a couple of hours ago and saw that the CCTV footage of the explosion has been mysteriously erased. That’s the power of MCs, I guess.

At some point, both of us fall asleep, slumping in our sitting positions and napping with our clothes on. When we wake, it’s afternoon. I order us a late breakfast, we eat, and then we just sit there again. Slick is gathering himself, it seems to me, trying to come to terms with what just happened. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s more like he can hardly believe it, and has to keep showing it to himself to make it real.

Finally, at around three, he says, “You shouldn’t have followed me, Brat. That was a damn fool thing to do.”

“Damn fool . . .” I let that hang for a moment, and then snap, “You would’ve drowned if I hadn’t gotten you out.”

“Yeah, or you could’a got yourself blown straight to fuckin’ hell. The fuck were you thinkin’, chasing me like that? I saw that rider, and I reckoned it was some bastard Grizzly’d sent after me to make sure I got it done. Not you.” He shakes his head, but an unwanted smile touches his lips.

“But you were impressed,” I note, reading his expression.

“No,” he says. “I mean—yeah, when I thought it was some fuck from the club. I’m not impressed with you. What if you’d gotten yourself killed? What then? The fuck you think happens when you die, Brat?”

“Don’t lecture me!” I snap, rising to my feet. I go to the window, the sunlight murky through the grimy curtains, my back to him. “I couldn’t let you come up here again all by yourself. If they took you, and no one was here . . . Somebody needed to be here just in case that happened.”

“You’re a mechanic, Brat, not a secret agent. Goddamn.”

“I’m more than you’ve ever given me credit for,” I throw back, still with my back turned. “Much more. You just never wanted to see it.”

I hear Slick stand, approach me, but I don’t turn. For some reason, looking at him is difficult right now. Maybe it’s because he just killed so many men, or maybe it’s because I know he’s right. I never should’ve come here, not with Charlotte to worry about. It was a stupid thing to do. He’s right about all of that. But—

“I just couldn’t let anything happen to you, not again. I just couldn’t, Slick.”

He stands close behind me, but doesn’t touch me. “You have to take care of our daughter,” he says. “That’s all that matters. Just her. Not me. I don’t fuckin’ matter. I’ve never fuckin’ mattered. Just take care of our damn daughter. Do what a mother should do; stick to that. Don’t get yourself killed to prove a point.”

“Prove a point!” I scream, anger suddenly seizing me. I spin around, facing him, waving my hands in his face. He doesn’t step back, just stands there, solid, staring me down. “Is that what you think I was doing?” I go on, trying to keep my voice level. “You think I was proving a point ? No, Slick, I wasn’t proving some bullshit point. I was making sure nothing happened to you!”

“So you’re my protector now?” He laughs bitterly. “I don’t need a protector, Brat. But our daughter does—”

“You keep saying our daughter like you even fucking know her! But where were you when she was crying all night for her dad, huh? You were in some cell for those Skull pricks! That’s why I had to follow you, Slick! I couldn’t let that happen again. I love you, you stupid big fucking oaf !”

I stop, panting, and then pace to the other side of the room, near the TV set.

We stand like that, on opposite sides of the room, until Slick mutters: “You love me, Brat? Is that it? You really fuckin’ love me? You don’t even know me. You don’t wanna love a man like me. That’d be a big mistake.”

“Oh, just stop it,” I murmur. “Just stop all this I’m-not-good-enough shit!”

“But it’s true!” he roars. One second he’s on the other side of the room. The next his hands are on my shoulders, spinning me around. He looms over me. “Take. Care. Of. Our. Daughter. That’s it, Brat. That’s all that matters. Let me take care of myself.”

His hands dig into my shoulders, making me remember the first time he held me like this. I had just turned eighteen and I was drunk, following him out to his bike when he left the club. I kept hinting for him to take me home, not caring if I was embarrassing myself, just wanting to see if the reality matched up with my fantasy. He kept saying no, and then finally grabbed me and shoved me up against the wall. He kissed me once, giving me a preview, and then let me go and backed away.

He doesn’t back away now.

And I don’t hesitate now.

“You’re such a prick,” I say, and then stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.

He seems caught off-guard by the kiss at first. I can’t blame him. I’m caught off-guard by it, too. But I can’t help myself. He looks so sexy, with his muscles tensed, his hair over his eyes, his eyes staring intensely into me. And emotion is easily transferred; passionate anger can become passionate lust pretty easily, in my experience. I open my mouth, hungry for the taste of him. After a moment, he opens his mouth, too, and we kiss properly. Kiss like two drowning people who want to take what pleasure they can before the last air bubble pops, kiss like lovers who have not seen each other for decades, not just years. I don’t think now; I can’t afford to think. I just kiss him, our tongues touching, and then he lifts me up and carries me to the bed. I love when he lifts he like this, hands pressed into my arms, like I weigh nothing, like I’m a teenaged tomboy again and he’s still the older boy.

He lays me on my back, leans over me as we break off the kiss.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Brat,” he says. “You’ve always been so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Come here,” I moan. “Come here. I want you.”

As I speak, I reach up and take off his shirt, revealing his layers of ridged muscle. He reaches down and unbuckles his jeans, pulling them down to his knees. His cock is rock-hard, springing up, eleven inches, thick, venous, the sort of cock which terrified me the first time I saw it, but tantalizes me now . . . now that I know what deep pleasure it can give.

“You need to be naked before I come near you, Brat,” he says, with his old cocky smirk. “That’s the rules.”

He takes my lower half; I take my upper. We strip me together. In a matter of seconds we are both naked, lit by the murky sunlight, Slick standing over me so hard his cock points almost directly up. Then, slowly, he lowers his body down over me. When his chest presses into my bare breasts, I let out a small sighing noise, it feels so incredible. I reach up and grab his back, thick, unyielding muscle in my hand, squeezing it. There’s no give to it; that’s what drives me wild. Slick is carved from steel. I could squeeze him all day and never find an inch of fat. His face close to mind, his breath caresses my cheek.

“I need to fuckin’ be inside of you,” he growls close to my ear.

“Fuck me, then,” I say, as desperate for it as he sounds. “Fuck me, Slick. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

He lifts his torso so that I can see his face. His expression is twisted, lust turning him intense. I know it’s wrong, so wrong, but the fact that he just killed the bastards who imprisoned him, the fact that he still has a small patch of blood on his head, turns me on even more. They tried to beat him, all of them, and they couldn’t. He was too strong for them. That’s the man leaning over me. That’s the father of my child.

He reaches down and grabs his cock in his hand, and then guides it toward my pussy. I feel the helmet brush against my hole, probing it, widening it. His cock is so huge, long and thick, that as he pushes the end inside of me, I gasp in pain. My pussy screams hotly, getting wider as he forces his massive length inside of me. I’m wet, already soaked for him. Just seeing him naked is enough for that. But he’s still huge. He slides into me slowly, his cock going deeper and deeper as my wet pussy gets wider for him. And then the pain stops, and my pussy loosens so that his cock sends pleasure through me, not pain. He holds it like that for a while, end pressed firmly against my sweet spot, staring down at my pert breasts, and then slides out, just as slowly as he slid in.

All through this, he stares at me, eyes wide, mouth closed, intense and serious and so captivating. Slowly, passionately, he slides in and out of me. It’s like each thrust brings us closer, the way he does it. I don’t know how, but each time he slides slowly, deeply, inside of me, it’s like the time we spent apart closes, until it is no time at all, until we are who we were before he became a prisoner and me a mother, when I was a tomboy and he was the unattainable older boy. I have never felt the pleasure of that night again, until now. I lift my legs, bob up and down on his cock, squeezing my pussy around him. He growls softly from the back of his throat when I do that, so I keep doing it.

Then he leans down, bringing his face to mine. He never kissed me, the last time we had sex. I always got the sense it made him uncomfortable for some reason, some manly thing that he just couldn’t do. But now, after everything, he brings his lips to mine. We don’t kiss exactly. It’s more like our mouths grind together as he thrusts and I bob up and down, both of us moaning down each other’s throats. I dig my fingernails into his shoulders, gouging his skin, taking all the pleasure from him I can. He thrusts deeper, deeper, until I feel an orgasm approaching. It’s strange when an orgasm comes like this: slow, so that you can sense it far in advance. I bite his lip, drawing blood, and he fucks me faster. Not too fast, but faster, sensing that I am close. I bounce up and down on him with more force, sitting hard on his balls, feeling his cock drive deep inside of me, pressing even more firmly against my hot spot.

“I’m going to—”

“Do it,” he whispers. “Come, Brat. Fuckin’ come.”

I tilt my hips, and then sit down, hard, just once, as hard as I can, so hard that his cock pounds into me for the first time, instead of slides in. I release his lip, afraid that I will bite clean through it when the orgasm hits me, and instead bite down on the mass of muscle in his shoulder. I tilt my hips one last time, and then it hits me: hits me with the weight of years spent apart. My pussy goes super tight around his cock and then releases, quickly, my body hungry for the pleasure. The heat burns deep in my pussy, at the end of his cock, burning into my sensitive spot and spreading up into my belly, making it warm, tingly. My whole body is alive with his warmth, the warmth of his chest pressed against my breasts, of his hard slab of belly pushed against mine, and most of all of his scorching cock inside of me. I gasp, again and again, as the orgasm rolls through me, touching every part of me, sending my nerves flaring into overdrive. I hover atop the pleasure, sitting down on his cock over and over, loving the feeling of my lips hugging it tightly as the orgasm seizes me. I squirt, toward the end, squirt my pleasure down the length of him. Slick looks down, moaning in pleasure at the squirting come, and somehow that makes me do it again. I can’t help it.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck—”

When it passes, I slump down, releasing his back and panting. Slick thrusts into me one last time, and then growls like a wild animal, eyes wider and amazed. I grip his face in my hands, direct his gaze to me, make it so we’re watching each other as he comes inside of me. When he falls to the side, I crawl into his embrace. Then he holds me.

“I want to meet Charlotte,” he says, after we’ve been lying like this for some time, listening to the sounds of the motel and the road. “Properly, I mean.”

“I just need to figure out when,” I reply. “I—I can’t see her hurt, Slick.”

“Okay,” he says, and then kisses on one the top of the head. “Okay.”

Slick

When I wake, a full day after the explosion on the docks, I lie in bed next to Brat for a while just staring at the ceiling. I stare and I think. I think about the Skulls, mostly, about how they’re all dead now. At least, most of ’em are dead, enough so that they’ll never be able to run some fucked up kidnapping racket like that again, so that the Masked Man will never again hack and shoot and torture anybody else. I remember how it felt, that machete cutting into my flesh with a thunk . And I remember how it looked, the plume of fire lighting up the light, reflected in the water as I jumped away from it. I thought I’d feel happy. But in truth, I don’t feel much of anything. I feel about the same, except for a small glimmer of relief which doesn’t compare to the pain those bastards inflicted on me. Two years of torture and twisting me to their cause for this small pinprick of relief? It’s a damn confusing mess, is what it is.

Brat wakes up, rubbing her eyes, and smiles up at me. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I reply. “But we better get back to Denver if we don’t want the whole damn MC comin’ up here looking for us. You know your dad’s noticed you’re gone.”

She winces. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I wish we could just lie here, though. Just lie here forever and be together and—What? What is it?”

I realize I’m smiling at her. “Nothin’, Brat. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

She sits up and prods me in the side. “Tell me,” she says.

I sigh, and then say, “I just missed you, is all.”

She smiles back at me. “I missed you, too.”

I don’t want to admit that her coming up here might’ve been a good thing, not to her face, anyway. Because coming up here was about the stupidest thing she could’ve done. Coming up here could’ve gotten her killed, and seeing as my life expectancy didn’t exactly increase when I came here, that could’ve left Charlotte an orphan. An orphan with a whole MC to protect her, but an orphan nonetheless.

I stand up and start getting dressed.

“What’re you doing?” Bri asks.

“I ain’t riding bitch the whole way home,” I say. “Lucky my wallet didn’t go up with my fuckin’ bike. I’m gonna get some more clothes and a junker. I saw a garage on our way here. Do you want anythin’, breakfast or something?”

“You’re going to bring me breakfast in bed now, Slick? You really are a changed man.”

“Changed man? I don’t know about that.”

I leave the motel room, go about my business, and return a few hours later with an old beat-up dirt bike and a fresh change of clothes. Bri is up, in the bathroom washing her hands. “Had to tool up the bike,” she tells me. “I rode her hard, following you.”

Seeing her like that, oil washing off her hands and into the plughole, just makes me want her all over again.

“You’re still the grease monkey you always were, Brat, even with your fancy new hair.”

She flicks her hair. “Is that your way of saying you like it?”

“Ha-ha. We need to get goin’. We’ve got another long ride back to Denver, and I don’t reckon Grizzly is just patiently waiting. Maybe we oughtta call him.”

“Maybe,” she says, but neither of us makes for the phone.

I come up behind her, wrap my arms around her shoulders, and kiss her on the cheek. “You’ve already called,” I say. “I heard you, last night.”

She bristles, avoiding my gaze in the mirror. “That wasn’t Dad. That was Heather. I was checking on Charlotte.”

“Our daughter,” I say. For some reason, after last night, the idea of Charlotte being my daughter ain’t such a bad thing. The fear, the terror, doesn’t grip me. I want to meet her. I want to be there for her. I want to try and make something good of myself. I thought killing the Skulls would make me feel better, but it didn’t. Maybe being some kind of father will.

“Our daughter.” Brat nods, giggling, and disentangles herself from me. “Let’s ride, Sky.”

“Let’s ride, Brat.”

And so we ride. The twenty-some-hour ride back is just as grueling as it always is, and I’m constantly shocked to see that Brat is not only keeping up, but outpacing me in some areas. We stop a few times along the way, since there isn’t the time crunch there was on the way here, but mostly we just ride. Morning turns to night, and then to deep night, and then to early morning, and we just keep riding until the clubhouse comes into view. We pull up in the parking lot and climb from our bikes. Brat removes her helmet, showing her flushed cheeks, red and glowing in the moonlight.

“Wow,” she says, grinning. “I don’t think that’d ever get old. I can see why you have all those tattoos now. And let me guess,” she goes on, when she sees me looking down at the piece-of-shit junker, “you’re going to blame the bike for those parts where I outpaced you.”

“Nah, Brat,” I say, turning away from the bike. “That was all you. You’re a goddamn devil on wheels.”

She giggles, and I’m about to laugh before I see Clint and Grizzly come walking from the clubhouse. Brat sees my expression and turns around. Soon the four of us are stood in a crude huddle, me and Brat on one side, Grizzly and Clint on the other. Clint makes this bitchy tutting noise which makes me wonder for the millionth time how he’s climbed so high up in the club. How does a man like that get the respect of the men? But the answer is obvious. Violence. In this life, it’s always violence.

“So you’re home,” Grizzly mutters, looking at Brat. “Don’t you think it’d be a good thing to call your old man and let him know you plan on going to a fuckin’ suicidal trip, Brianna? Don’t you think a man who’s already lost his wife might not like the idea of losing his daughter, too? Don’t you think your daughter deserves better than a mother who goes out of her way to put a goddamn gun barrel between her eyes?”

Brat just stands there under this tirade, all the while Clint grinning this shit-eating grin which makes me want to turn his nose into a mess of blood and bone. But I can’t, not with the President here.

Grizzly rears up like an old bear, as grizzled as his name, and points his finger down at his daughter like a claw. “Don’t you reckon it would’a been a good idea to think of your fuckin’ child before thinkin’ of—of him , Brianna? I know you’ve got a soft spot for Slick. Fine, I may not like it, but fine. But Slick knows what he’s doing. Slick was briefed. Slick knew the danger. You didn’t. You could’ve gotten yourself killed—”

“I’ve already heard all this from Slick!” Brat cries, shaking her head, stepping back. “What do you think the first thing he did when we got into that motel room was? Do you think it was to make sure I was okay? No, it was—” She stops, realizing she’s mentioned the motel room, and seeing her father’s face. I see it, too; Grizzly knows, or at least guesses, what happened in that room. Staying in a room together alone might not be damning on its own, but when you take into account that time outside the Irishman , and the trip into the mountains, it don’t look good.

“I want you away from the club for a while, Brianna,” Grizzly says, face hardening. “You’re going somewhere else for a while, to get your head on straight. If you come by here, you’ll be turned away.”

“What are you talking about—”

“And you,” Grizzly goes on, turning to me, “follow me. We need to talk—about respect, about honor, about a hundred other things you don’t seem to give a shit about.”

Bri makes to protest, but then Grizzly cuts in. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna have Clint and his men make you leave. I know. You don’t think I will. You don’t think I have it in me. Test me. The mood I’m in, I won’t think twice about it. Go and see your daughter.”

Despite the threats, she’s about to protest again when I place my hand on my shoulder. Grizzly doesn’t look too happy about it, but he’s going to work me over anyway, so fuck him. “It’s okay,” I say. “Do as he says, Bri. Go and see Charlotte. She needs you. I’ll be fine.”

She turns to me. I can see it in her face, what she wants to do. She wants to throw her arms around me and kiss me. She wants me to hold her. She wants both of us to run away, get Charlotte and run far, far away. But she knows I can’t do that. This is my club, my father’s club, and I’ll always be loyal to it. Even if they have got assholes like Clint playing puppeteer.

“I’ll go and see Charlotte,” Brat murmurs. And then, throwing a look at Grizzly, she says, “And I’ll tell her you say hello, Slick.”

Grizzly don’t look none too happy about that comment, but before he can reply, Brat is on her way, and Clint and Grizzly are leading me into the club. Clint’s grin is so self-satisfied, so oily, that all I can think about as we walk through the bar to Grizzly’s office is if he would be grinning so much with a bullet in his head. Spike is in the bar, shooting pool. He raises his eyebrows, asking me what’s going on. I just shake my head.

In Grizzly’s office, Clint stands at his shoulder whilst he sits in his throne-like chair. I take the small chair opposite, and wait for it to begin. Bri shouldn’t have said anything about the motel room, that’s for damn sure, but it’s like Grizzly doesn’t even recognize what the fuck I just did for the club. I tell myself not to get angry, to calm down, but I can’t help but grip the arms of the chair so hard I reckon they’d snap of if I did it much harder.

“I’m basing you in the clubhouse,” Grizzly says, in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re not gonna leave the clubhouse until I say you can. I’ve sent Brianna away for a while, so with you here, there’ll be time for you two to come to your senses.”

“Fuck that,” I say. It’s more like I hear myself say it. Clint bristles. Grizzly clenches his jaw.

“The fuck’d you just say to me?” Grizzly snaps.

“This is bullshit,” I say, trying to keep my tone steady. “You’re goin’ to put me in prison again, and for what? You know what I just did for this club.”

“Or for yourself,” Clint cuts in smoothly. “Maybe you blew those pricks to kingdom come because you were scared of what they might say about you, if they were allowed to live.”

I slam my hand down on the desk, sending pens and papers lurching. “After everything I’ve done for this fuckin’ club!” I roar.

Clint has his gun out, and Grizzly has his hand near his waist, where his gun is holstered.

After a few moments, I lean back, realizing that attacking the President and the VP, even if they’re being unreasonable assholes, is no way to get ahead.

“You’ll stay here until I say you can leave. I’m damn sick of seein’ you paw all over my daughter like some kind of fuckin’ animal.”

I’m about to speak—not even sure what I’m going to say, but reckon I need to say something—when Grizzly lays his fists flat on the desk and stands up, leaning over me. This is the man who raised me. I’ve seen him angry hundreds of times. But this is different. This is more than anger.

“If you don’t leave my daughter and granddaughter alone, I’ll put you in the fuckin’ ground.”

Bri

Spring turns to summer and Dad doesn’t let me see Slick, not once. For the first few days, I call the clubhouse almost nonstop, sitting in the back of Heather’s consignment store on the office phone hitting redial. Mostly nobody answers, but when they do, and they hear it’s me, they hang up. When that doesn’t work, I spend the next week or so going by the place. From circling the clubhouse on my bike, I see that Dad has really lost it; he has Slick barricaded in one of the back rooms, with bars on the window. When I try to approach, one of Clint’s goons appears as though from nowhere and just shakes his head. He wouldn’t touch me, I know, but he would tell Dad. I ask myself, what would Dad do, really? What can he do? And then a hundred scenarios come into my head. He could cut off my money. That’s the main thing. Since I’m technically his employee, he could fire me. He could cancel our health insurance. He could make it so I couldn’t pay Heather for babysitting. Before all this, I never thought he’d do that. But now, after locking Slick away? I’m not so sure.

It doesn’t help that Heather is firmly on Dad’s side. I work in the store with her, sometimes in the back sorting clothes people bring in for donation, and sometimes in the front stocking or serving customers. The store is a small, cute place on the end of a row of independent restaurants and record stores. Heather calls it No Chain Street, because there isn’t a franchise store in sight. When it’s quiet, Charlotte in the high chair in the back, cooing on the baby monitor, or out on the shop floor playing with blocks or books, Heather chooses her time to go on one of her legendary tirades.

“Say what you want about Grizzly . . .”

This is how she starts it, every time. I’ll be hanging up blouses, sorting shoes, counting cash, checking stock, labelling items, dragging in bags of donated clothes, or sitting in the back eating a cheese sandwich, and she’ll appear at my shoulder like some warped version of an angel and mutter, “Say what you want about Grizzly . . .”

When she says this, I know that some twisted, Slick-hating, life-hating argument is on its way.

“Say what you want about Grizzly,” she says one day, as I’m collecting clothes from the floor after helping a customer with a miniature fashion session, “but you have to admit, Brianna, he has a point on this one. I think so, at least. Think about it, give it some real thought. What is Slick, really? What are any of them? Come on, now. Let’s be real.” She lowers her voice. “He’s a killer, a—”

“Leather-wearing bandit. I know, Heather. I get it. You’ve said that before.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just because I’ve said it many times, it doesn’t mean it’s not true.” With this display of logic out of the way, she goes on, “So isn’t it really in your best interest for you to sever this—I suppose you would call it connection—with him? Is it really necessary to hold onto him like that, to pine and fuss?”

“I don’t pine,” I mutter, taking the clothes into the back, where she can’t follow me. I sort them, set Charlotte down for a nap in the cot, make sure the baby monitor is functioning, then return to the shop floor. When I walk back out, it’s like the conversation never stopped, even though around forty-five minutes have passed.

“You do pine,” Heather says, in her I-know-best tone. It seems everything she says this summer is in that tone. “You don’t think I see that look in your eye, Brianna? Every man that comes in here, fat or old, black or white, you think it’s Slick for a second. I see it.”

“You’re imagining things,” I say, making sure to keep my back to her and praying for a customer. She’s eerily right, and it freaks me out that she can read me like that. I’ll be watching the door and a man will enter, usually trailing his girlfriend or wife, and for a split-second, I’ll want to run over to him and wrap my arms around him. And then, out of the mirage, an old ginger guy will appear.

“I don’t think so,” Heather says.

Then a customer enters. Gratefully, I go and serve her. Working here, despite Heather’s constant yammering, I’m starting to realize that I might have a joy for fashion. I can’t say an eye for fashion or a skill in it, not yet, anyway, but there’s something strangely peaceful and fulfilling about looking at a woman and then at an assortment of clothes and asking myself, What would suit her best? The most fulfilling part is when someone comes in who isn’t a complete fashion model, who thinks that nothing will ever fit them. Seeing their face light up when I’ve found an outfit which accentuates their best features. It gets to the point that I begin to have repeat customers who come by at least once a week. Heather starts calling me the Little Fashionista (when she’s not berating me, that is). Sometimes, when the store is closed in the evenings, I’ll walk between the racks before going home and study the clothes, mentally compiling outfits. And sometimes, as I’m doing this, I’ll catch a glimpse of myself in the shop window: shoulder-length hair, summer dress, short heels, face enhanced with makeup. Is that really me, the tomboy who rode dirt bikes with Slick and spent most of her childhood flecked with oil?

I start to entertain the idea of a life outside of the club, a life in which I don’t spend my days in a garage, surrounded by killers and robbers. I love the club and I would never betray it, but when Heather says that it’s leather-wearing bandits who go there, she’s not wrong. I start to wonder if perhaps she’s right, if I should take Charlotte and find our own home, stop pretending that I’m just a temporary employee, and go to school at the community college. Maybe study fashion on the side. I have a taste for it; I could learn. I want to learn. Maybe, in a few years, I could open my own store. Or since Heather’s store is doing so well, she could open a second branch and I could manage that. I like choosing the outfits, layering the clothes, but I also like talking to the customers when they bring in donations. It’s a simple, easy, civilized life. A civilian life. I sometimes even dream about it—but then I dream about Slick far more.

It’s the same every time. I’ll be dreaming about this picturesque, simple life in which I am the manager of a consignment store, a fashion student, and a mother, and everything will be perfect. Life will be free of those huge, dramatic moments that fill up club life. There will be no explosions, no bike races, no patching up wounded club members. The dream will linger on this for a time, but then I’ll think of Slick, and it will all come crumbling down. Without Slick, it means nothing. Without the man I love—and I do love him, I’ve always loved him—without the father of my child, what’s the point? I could sink gracefully into this life if Slick was allowed to sink with me. But nobody wants that to happen. Heather thinks he’s too rough. Dad thinks he’s too—too what? Too much like him, perhaps? The world is determined that we can’t be together, and that just makes me all the more determined to be with him. Even if I wanted to forget about him, I couldn’t; every time I look into my daughter’s sky-blue eyes, I see my Sky.

“You pine,” Heather goes on, after I’ve dealt with the customer. “I see you staring off into space. And don’t think I don’t know about your phone calls and your trips to the clubhouse. I know all about them, missy.” She folds her arms, pouts at me. Heather’s the only woman I’ve ever met who can make a pout vicious. “I’ve talked to your father about it.”

“Hitting on my dad again, were you?” I shoot back.

Heather grumbles, and falls quiet. Saying that she wants Dad is the only way to make her be quiet sometimes. Maybe it’s because she really does have an interest in him, which is complicated for a whole host of reasons. It would make her a hypocrite, wanting to be with the leather-wearing bandit. And it would be awkward, since she and my mother were best friends. It’s good ammunition to have.

But it doesn’t stop her.

Heather’s apartment is a three-bedroom with ample room for all of us. The living room is the crowning achievement: a huge open-plan space with hardwood flooring, a massive seventy-inch television, an even bigger bookshelf, and a ping pong table off to one side. It looks like the living room of a much younger person, but it turns out Heather loves ping pong, and loves cranking up the surround sound and watching big dumb action movies. We’ll be sitting in front of this massive TV, in the middle of some stupid action movie, and she’ll blurt out from nowhere: “You haven’t even played the field properly.”

I hate this argument, really despise it. It’s like, okay, so I haven’t fucked every man from California to New York. Does that now mean that I don’t have the right to choose who I want to be with, especially if the person I want to be with is the father of my child? Because I haven’t been out with Tim Programmer and Michael Editor and James Commuter, does that now mean that I can’t choose who I want to love? When I voice all this to Heather, she just gives me that same I-know-best look, a look I am quickly coming to associate with the urge to slap her across the face.

But the worst thing she ever says to me comes after almost two months of being parted from Slick, dreaming about him every night, missing him with an ache in my chest and seeing him in Charlotte’s gorgeous eyes. It’s late, the sun set and Heather’s tall lamps throwing overlapping shadows across the room, Charlotte asleep and moaning on the monitor. Heather is drinking wine, too much wine, but it’s a Saturday and the store is closed tomorrow.

We’re talking about fashion, and then Heather says, “But you used to be such a wild little animal. Now you’re a Little Fashionista. How does that happen?”

I shrug, smile, but there’s a searching look in her eyes. Now that I think about it, she’s been giving me that searching look all night. “What is it?” I ask.

“It’s just . . . Slick . . .”

“What about him?”

“Listen, Brianna,” she says, voice low. “If you ever wanted to talk to me about anything that may have happened when you were younger, and he was older—”

“Stop,” I interrupt, voice firm. “Don’t go any further, Heather.” My tone is ice-cold.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“Listen to me, right now,” I say, holding her gaze. “When I was a teenager, I was the one who always wanted to be with Slick. I was always hinting to him, and even throwing myself at him sometimes, because my hormones were going crazy and I wanted him so badly. He was fire and I was a moth, or something like that. Another man might’ve just taken me and been done with it. But not Slick, never Slick. Slick never let me kiss him, or even be near him in that way until I was eighteen years old. He was adamant about it. Even when I was fourteen and, for the one and only time during those years, dressed up in the sexiest outfit I’d ever worn, he brushed me off.”

Heather looks wary, unsure, so I go on: “Let me put it in plain terms. I do not want Slick because he took advantage of me at a young age, or anything sick like that. I do not want Slick because he is an evil man; I want Slick because he is the best man I know. I can’t believe you would even suggest something like this, Heather.”

She sips her wine, and then says, “I’m sorry. I am. I just had to make sure.”

“Well, now you’re sure,” I say, anger bubbling up inside of me. I force it down, telling myself she just wants what’s best for me.

But that’s part of the problem. I’m the one person who doesn’t get a say in what’s best for me.

Slick

They lock me in one of the dormitory rooms like a goddamn animal. It ain’t as bad as when I was locked in the warehouse, ’cause at least here I have a bed, and a toilet, and it’s warm, and I don’t spend my days wondering when some masked bastard is going to come calling with a machete. In that way, it ain’t as bad, but in another way, it’s much worse. These are my people. This is my club, my father’s club. For years, I spent my life being the best damned courier for the Ragers I could be. And then when I do more for them than anyone’s done in years, wiping out a rival club, they throw me in here.

I spend the next few weeks trying to convince myself to wait it out, to be patient, to not rock the boat too much otherwise I’ll never be VP. But it gets more and more difficult the longer I’m locked up here. I tell myself to stay calm and wait Grizzly out. He won’t keep me in here forever, and if I haven’t caused a hassle, when I get out it’ll be easier to get back to work with the club. But I can’t let go of my anger; it builds each morning I look out of the barred window and see one of Clint’s asshole goons guarding me, each time I try and open my door and find it locked. I’m allowed in the bar, but only with an escort.

If I want to be a part of this club, I have to be a good boy. That’s the message I’m being sent. Spike and my old boys and their sons are useless to me, just like any band of men is useless without somebody to lead ’em. And I’m not doing much leading from inside this cell. I wake up, work out, get breakfast, work out, get lunch, read, get dinner, sit in the bar with the men, go to bed. Over and over, for almost two months, this is my routine. I think of Brat more than anybody else, think of how brave she was to come after me like that, think of how mad she was. I think about our daughter, and how I was going to get to know her before Grizzly fucked everything up. I don’t think of the Skulls, of their charred flesh, burning skin, stinking corpses. I try not to, at least.

The man who guards the outside window is called Trevor. He’s the eight-fingered man who was with Clint when he brought me to Grizzly’s house a couple of months back. I can’t get out of the window because of the bars, but I can open the window by putting my hand through the bars.

“Trevor,” I say, when I’ve learnt his name. “Don’t you reckon it’s strange that a man like you—I know about you; I asked around—is sittin’ out here like this? Just sittin’ there, like a fuckin’ mall cop. You’ve killed people, man. You’re a damn soldier.”

That doesn’t work. He just sits there on his foldout chair with one earbud in, listening to the radio, ignoring me.

I try a few more tactics on him, to try and get him on my side, like playing Clint down or trying to get to his pride. It’s the shit they used on us back in the warehouse. But this man is loyal, and he’s been given orders, so he doesn’t reply. My objective was to get him on side so I could get news about Brat. Being in here not knowing what she’s up to is killing me. All over again, I’m left to question if she’s forgotten about me, if she even cares, if she’s found somebody else, only now it’s worse because I have the kid to think about. I’m all too aware that one month to an adult may not be that long, but to a kid it’s a century, and I’ve already missed a thousand years with my child.

That, and the fact that Grizzly and Clint are treating me like a chump even after I wiped out the Skulls, is what solidifies my decision to break out. I’m not about to sit here for two more months—hell, maybe it’ll be two years—while Clint pulls Grizzly’s strings and turns the whole club against me. The only problem is, once I’ve broken out, I’ll be a wanted man. Going against club orders is never a good idea. But I have a daughter to think of, and I reckon it’s a damn sight more stupid to leave her out there, alone, without her father.

I decide to do it at night, when the guard is taking me from my room to the bar area. In the days, I get myself ready. I don’t work out in the morning for the next few days, letting my muscles rest up, and I go into the bathroom and make a couple of shanks out of mirror glass, plastic, and tooth floss. Then, when I’m ready, I stuff the shanks in the pocket of my leather and wait for the guard to come and collect me for the evening. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I can’t help but reflect on the past two months and feel like a complete chump. I’ve sat here, like a good little prisoner, every evening waiting to be escorted to the bar of my own damned club. If Clint is there, he’ll sneer at me. If Grizzly is there, he’ll ignore me. I’m stewing on this when the knock comes at the door.

“You comin’ out here tonight?” the man asks.

“Yeah,” I reply.

I think it might be Gregory, but I can’t be sure; they change the inside guards regularly. When I open the door, I see that it’s a man I’ve never met. He has shaved bald and waxed his scalp. His face is covered with tattoos in geometric patterns, and the word KILL tattooed on his knuckles.

“You new?” I ask him.

I take my time pulling on my leather, doing it slowly, making it so he feels at ease and doesn’t think to look inside the jacket.

“Just been patched,” he says.

“I’m guessin’ it was Clint who patched you, eh?”

“How’d you know that?” the man asks, suspicious.

“Because then he can use you as one of his soldiers to take over the club, and kill Grizzly, or at least push him out.”

I stand tall, facing him, wondering how tough he feels with his tattoos and his new patch facing down the man who killed all the Skulls; everybody in the club knows about it. The man swallows as I stare him down. He looks like he wants to take a step back, but he would be failing in his job if he did that. Instead, he waves a hand at the door. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

“Nah.” I shrug, and then sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ve changed my mind. Might just hang out here.”

“Fine,” he says. “Don’t mean a thing to me.”

When he turns around, I make my move. In one fluid motion, I reach inside my pocket, jump across the room, and clamp my hand over his mouth and drag him back into the room, the shank pressed into the back of his neck. I kick the door closed and shove him onto his belly.

“So,” I say, knee jammed into his lower back, “I don’t reckon I’m gonna be here much longer, so I need you to tell me where Grizzly has sent Bri.” The man tries to speak, but I still have my hand on his mouth. “I’m gonna take my hand away now. You oughtta know that if you scream, I’ll do you like I did the Skulls, every damn one of ’em. You think you’re a real tough killer, eh? Just get between me and Bri and see how tough you are. Nod if you understand.” He nods, and I release his mouth.

“I don’t know nothin’ about the Boss’s daughter, man.”

“The Boss,” I say, musing. “Are you talking about the club’s Boss, or your Boss?”

“It’s the same thing,” the man says, in a pleading tone.

“Whatever.” I push his face into the floor, squashing his nose. He groans, but knows to keep his voice low. “I need you to listen to me now, and listen fuckin’ close. I’m getting out of here tonight, and if you try and stop me, I will make sure you die. I don’t care when, or how, but one day, I’ll kill you. You understand? Nod.”

He nods again.

“Good. So I’m gonna need you to wait here for around five minutes, and then you can go out into the bar and tell ’em I overpowered you. I know what you’re thinkin’. What’s to stop you from running in there as soon as I leave? But just remember, I’m the man the Skulls called the Beast ’cause I slaughtered twenty men in one night, and I’m the fuckin’ man who blew up those Skulls all by my goddamn self. You don’t wanna give me a reason to come after you.”

“I—” When I let go of the back of his head, he whispers fiercely, “I get it, man. I really get it. Come on, man. I get it. I get it!”

I stand up slowly, watching him for any sign of movement, and then creep out into the hallway. I mean it, I’ll come back for him, and he knows I mean it. Sometimes it’s good being the Beast. I creep through the hallway, listening to the sounds of the men in the bar, and then, when I’m in the lobby area, I walk out of the club and hug the wall, making my way around the side of the building to where Trevor usually sits, day and night, the most loyal, stupid man under Clint’s orders. When I reach him, sitting in the setting sunlight and listening to his radio, more like a man at the end of a hard honest day of laboring than a club man, I crouch behind him and bring the shank around to his throat.

“No,” I say, when he goes for his gun on instinct. I take the gun with my free hand, and press the gun into his head instead of the shank.

“I could shout and have every fucker in there out here in a second,” he says.

“Maybe,” I reply, “but I could pull the trigger and have every piece of your brain out here in a second, too.”

He nods at that, a killer accepting he’s been bested by another killer. “Fair enough,” he says. “What’d’you want?”

“I need to know where Bri is—Grizzly’s daughter. I know you’ve heard somethin’ about it, maybe in passing. So I need you to tell me in the next ten seconds or I’m sorry, Trevor, but you’re a dead man.”

“You’d really kill me out here?” he asks. Not scared, just curious.

“Yeah,” I say. “I really would. Don’t want to, truth be told, but I will.”

“Escaping is one thing, but killing on your way out is another, right?”

“Exactly. But enough talking. Tell me what I want to know. You’ve got five seconds left.”

He sighs, and then says, “In the city, at an apartment owned by a woman called Heather.”

“Her mom’s friend? Alright. Now what’re we goin’ to do about you callin’ those men the second I remove this gun?”

“I don’t think there’s much you can do—”

I slam him across the back of the head with the barrel of the gun. It ain’t like in the movies, where they just collapse and that’s that. He wobbles, tries to stand, so I slam him twice more. Four times total, and then he’s passed out, crumpled on the floor, his radio off to one side and his headphones in a question-mark pattern.

I don’t waste any time, just sprint across the lot, take the first bike I see, hotwire it, and then cruise it out as quietly as I can. Only when I’m a good half-mile from the clubhouse, I rev the engine and speed toward the city, knowing that I’ve done something I can’t take back, but unwilling to sit in that damned room one day longer with my daughter and Brat out here, alone, without me. I tried to do it the proper way. I tried to wait it out. I tried to stand by and let Clint fuck up my life. But I won’t stand for it, not anymore.

I spent two long years as a prisoner. I’m not spending two more.

Bri

At first, I think it’s just the rain pattering against my window. I roll over and bury my head in the pillow, ignoring the constant pat-pat-pat. But after around ten minutes, it stops, and then after around another ten minutes, it starts again. I don’t dare to hope, as I rise from bed and creep across the room, wincing every time the floor makes a creaking noise. I can’t hope. I can’t let myself believe. It’s not possible. Slick would never risk his life in the club like that, not for me. He’ll do what Dad tells him. He’ll serve his time.

Going to the window, I look down on the street. It’s dark, difficult to see anything, but there’s a shadowy form down there. The form steps forward into a streetlamp and Slick, in his leather and just how he was the last time I saw him except that his hair is longer and he hasn’t shaved in a few days, smirks up at me.

I glance back at my bedroom, at the baby monitor on the nightstand. She’s getting so loud now that I probably don’t need to use one, but if mothers aren’t allowed a little paranoia, who is? I take the baby monitor and creep through the apartment on my tiptoes. For such an expensive apartment, the floors in here seem to creek with each light step, as if wanting me to fail. I open Heather’s bedroom door, lean in, and place the monitor on one of her shelfs. She mutters something in her sleep and rolls over, but does not wake. After that, I return to my bedroom and throw on some jeans and a sweatshirt, before creeping out of the apartment. It’s only when I’m downstairs, walking into the cooling night air, that I let myself breathe a sigh of relief.

I look around the street for Slick, but he’s nowhere to be seen. For a moment I wonder if perhaps I dreamt the whole thing, or hallucinated it. It would be possible, considering just how much I’ve been thinking about him these past two months. I walk toward the end of the street, under the streetlamps, and then almost jump into the road when Slick says, “Hey,” from the darkness of an alleyway.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I hiss, hand on my chest.

He smirks, and immediately any panic or anger drops away. First, I waited two long years to see that smirk. Now, I’ve waited two long months.

“Aren’t you glad to see me?” he says, approaching.

“No, of course I am. You’re the most welcome sight a woman could see at night, alone, in an alleyway—”

He presses against me, and then kisses me on the lips. I kiss him back, my body instantly alight at the roughness of his lips, of his prickly beard. When he breaks off the kiss, I’m gasping even more than I was when he startled me. “Is our daughter safe?” he asks quietly, hands wrapped around my waist. That this would be his first question makes me want to kiss him again, but harder, with more meaning behind it. But I’m too aware of Heather’s apartment building, a watching sentinel from which Heather could emerge at any moment, wagging her finger and talking about leather-wearing bandits.

“She’s safe.”

I tell him about the baby monitor, and how Heather has taken care of her countless times.

“Then let’s ride,” Slick says.

“Ride, where?”

He shrugs. “Anywhere. Away from the city. To the Rockies. I need to get away from bricks and steel and all that civilized shit for a while. I’ve been locked in the goddamn clubhouse for two goddamn months.”

When we find his bike, I see that it’s not his bike but somebody else’s. I vaguely recognize it from the shop. “I’m pretty sure this belongs to one of Clint’s men,” I mutter.

“Clint’s men,” he echoes. “This amazes me. Everyone talks about Clint’s men like it’s natural, like there should even be such a thing as Clint’s men . That’s what he’s done. He’s played the long game, made everyone think it’s all normal.”

“He’s been with us since before I was born,” I point out. “Why would he wait so long?”

“Either he’s a fuckin’ coward, or he’s a fuckin’ genius.” Slick takes off his leather and hands it to me. “Put this on. Don’t won’t you gettin’ hurt. And this.” He reaches under the bike and takes a helmet from the storage compartment.

“What about you?” I ask, taking the leather.

He just looks at me. Even in the darkness, his sky-blue eyes are full of life. I put on the jacket and the helmet, and then climb onto the bike behind Slick. He is wearing a thin-fabric long-sleeve shirt. I can feel his abs through it, well-defined. I squeeze onto them, so glad to feel them that I don’t care if I’m being too forward, don’t care if Heather and Grizzly and the whole world thinks this is wrong. How can riding with the father of my child be wrong? How can any of this be wrong when it feels so natural, so true, so right?

Slick rides us out of the city, toward the mountains, framed by starlight, some of the jutting areas looking like forefingers, crooked, beckoning. It feels good to ride, even if I’m not the one riding. I haven’t ridden much since staying with Heather. I’ve had Charlotte with me; I don’t think it’s good practice to chuck a helmet on a toddler and throw her on the back of a bike, and I can’t afford a sidecar. I lay the helmet against Slick’s back, hugging into him, enjoying the thrum of the engine beneath me and the wind whipping at my legs. After a while, I see where Slick is taking us. I laugh to myself. We wind down passageways, between valleys, down secret hidden places which Slick has to slow down to navigate.

“You’re taking us to our old dirt bike course,” I call to him, once he’s slowed down enough to be able to hear me.

“You’re a smart lady,” he calls back.

When he was sixteen and I was nine, he used to bring me down here on his dirt bike. Somehow, he’d found a kid’s dirt bike which he kept in a makeshift hut he’d built himself out of old sheets of metal. He would bring me up here, and then, after making sure I was in all the safety gear, let me ride up and down the muddy ramps, around the course. I always looked forward to coming here more than I looked forward to anything else. These were in the days before I realized how much I wanted Slick. These were the days when he was just my older friend, my protector. When I became older, I often fantasized, when we came here, that one of these days he would tackle me into the rutted area of the ramps, the deep crevices, and ravage me, kiss me, take me. But he never did; he never would. That wasn’t Slick.

He brings the bike to a stop and we both climb off. Taking the helmet and the jacket off, I breathe in the fresh night air. When I make to hand the jacket back to Slick, he shakes his head. “Don’t know if I have the right to wear that anymore, Brat,” he says. “Don’t know if Grizzly’n all would take too kindly to it now.”

“What happened?” I ask.

He tells me about breaking out, about threatening the men, about stealing the bike.

He’s right; it’s a terrible situation.

Dropping the jacket, I jump across to him. “Let’s not think about that now!” I exclaim, putting my hands on his shoulders. “Tonight is about reunion. Tonight is about saying, ‘Screw the world. We want what we want, and they can go to hell. Right?’”

He grins, and takes my hand. “Right. Follow me, then.”

Gripping his hand in mine tightly, afraid that if I don’t this will really all turn out to be a dream after all, I walk with him around the edge of the track. Back when we were kids, Slick used to maintain the track with a shovel, shaping it, making sure it didn’t build up packs of dirt or crumble in the wrong places. Now, the track is half-wrecked, some of the muddy ramps still in place, others crumbled to dust. When I see it, still standing, I let go of his hand and run toward it. Behind me, Slick chuckles.

“What the hell ?” I approach the hut, as rickety-looking as ever, catching the starlight on its metallic surface. I turn to Slick. “Seriously, what the hell? How is this still here?”

“A courier has to be a Jack of all trades,” he says.

“You came by here recently and rebuilt it, didn’t you?”

He grins, and then shakes his head. “No faith, Brat, no faith. Come inside. I wanna show you something.”

When we’re inside, I don’t see anything at first. It takes my eyes a while to adjust to the darkness, even if starlight seeps through gaps in the metal. Then the dim outline of a dirt bike reveals itself, and then the dirt bike in its entirety. I remember it being green, but now it just looks grey. I run over to it, squealing with excitement. A rush of memories hit me when I see it. This was the first proper bike I ever rode. Back then, I thought I was a real dirt biker, a proper Ricky Carmichael. I remember the first time I fell off, how Slick quickly cleaned and patched me up. I remember when some boys around Slick’s age found the spot and started teasing me, calling me, a “widdle girl,” and laughing. I also remember how Slick bloodied their noses and sent them running.

“Brat, there’s something else.”

I turn to see Slick standing with a small metal box in his hand.

“That’s not what I think it is, is it?” I ask, fidgeting with excitement. I can’t believe he’s done this. He must’ve done it soon after he came back, and left it like this, waiting for the time he could bring me here. And then life got in the way. Or maybe it really has stayed standing all this time, a permanent emblem of our shared childhood.

“Come outside and see.”

We go back outside. Slick places the box on the floor and returns to the bike, calling back, “Don’t peep until I come back, Brat, or there’ll be hell to pay.” I laugh, and wait. Soon, he returns with a flashlight in his hand. We sit down on a grassy patch of dirt, before Slick clicks his fingers and jumps to his feet.

“Are we ever going to take a look?” I ask, pretending I’m furious with him for taking so long.

“Just wait a sec, damn.” He goes to the bike, and then returns with an old oily blanket. “I don’t reckon you mind a bit of grease, Brat?”

“You know me so well,” I reply, my cheeks warm with the moment, the night, with seeing him again.

He lays the blanket on the dirt and we both sit on it with the box between us.

When he puts his arm around me, pulling me into him, I feel like I’m home. Time drifts away and we’re back where we started, Brat and Sky, and all the horrible shit that’s happened to Slick no longer exists. The escape, the ramifications, Dad’s misguided anger and Clint’s scheming . . . all of it is burnt away by the starlight and drifts into nothingness. Slick and I, me and Slick; that’s all.

“You can open it now,” he says.

I tear the box open, and then let out a gleeful scream when I see them there, just how we left them. Slick tips them onto the blanket and shines the flashlight on them. In total, there are around fifty Polaroids, taken over the span of a couple of years. The first one I pick up shows me, thinking I’m super cool and super grownup sitting on the dirt bike with a serious, pensive expression, glaring at the camera.

“You thought you were the shit, Brat,” Slick says, smiling warmly. “You thought you were a real—”

“—Ricky Carmichael.”

“So you remember?”

He used to call me that all the time.

“Of course I remember,” I say.

The next photograph shows Slick, younger, skinnier, with long hair down to his chin and without any tattoos. He’s on his knees working on his bike.

“Look at your hair!” I slap him on the arm, giggling.

He smiles ruefully. “Forgot that one was in there, truth be told. Do you prefer it how it was then, or how it is now?”

“Now, definitely,” I say. “You look like a wannabe rock star.”

“Yeah, well—what about you in this one?” He picks up one of me with my bike on its side, my foot planted proudly on the bike, arms raised in the air like it’s a boxing match and I’ve just toppled my opponent. I’m wearing an oil-stained jumpsuit and my hair is cut so close to my head that if it were not for my feminine face, I would look like a boy. “I went out of my way to get you a dirt bike you could ride, and how do you repay me, eh? By nagging me all damn day to take a picture of you with the thing toppled, all damn day, on and on. Sky, Sky, please take this picture. Please, please .”

I nudge him, and then snuggle closer into him. With his arm around me, he coils a long strand of my hair around his finger. “Look where my hand is,” he says, “all the way down here, near your shoulder, and still I get a handful of hair. You would’ve died back then if you could see it now.”

“That’s because I wanted to be like you,” I whisper.

“I had rock star wannabe hair, didn’t I?”

“A grownup, a rider, a junk head, a grease monkey.”

He laughs. “Well, you were all that. Just look at you.”

We go through all of them, coming across only one or two with both of us in shot together. One is too blurry to be able to make anything out, but the other is of me on his shoulders, Slick holding the camera at arm’s length. It’s framed poorly and we can’t see much, but we can see our smiles, both us grinning like fools.

“Damn timer button was broken, remember?”

“I remember,” I say. “Look how happy we were.”

A powerful wave of nostalgia hits me. I wish I could lie face down in the dirt, and then when I stand up, be in that past, just for the night. Just for one night, ride up and down those ramps again like all that exists is this little pocket of mud in the middle of the Rockies. Everything, all oppressive grownup concerns, melting away as my world hones down to the next jump, the next lap.

“Aren’t you that happy now?” Slick asks, once we’ve put the photographs away.

“I’m happy,” I say. “When I’m with Charlotte, I’m happy. And when I’m with you, I’m happy. But it seems the world doesn’t want us to be together.”

“Your dad, you mean,” Slick says. “Grizzly confuses the fuck out of me. He took me in after my father died. He knew I’d never find my mom, knew she was a hooker who ran to hook someplace else after she had me. Knew all this, took me in. Good—damn good of him. And then, when I’ve done more for the club than any man, decides that he can’t have me near his daughter and locks me up.”

“He’s over-protective,” I say. “He’s been like that ever since I hit puberty. Even now I have Charlotte, he seems to think that I’ve never been with a man. He thinks that I’ll break like glass if anybody touches me. It drives me crazy that he doesn’t trust you, of all people. He must know that Charlotte is your daughter. He has to. I don’t get how he could look at her and think anything else. And yet he acts as though the father is a complete mystery. It pisses me the hell off.”

“Me, too.” Slick kisses me on the forehead. “I brought you here for a reason, Brat. I brought you here ’cause I wanted to tell you . . .” He trails off. I hear him swallow, a loud gulp of nerves.

“Go on,” I urge, looking up at him, at his serious face, his deep wells of eyes, his clenched jaw. His hair hangs just over his eyes. I brush it away, and then run my hand through his hair, all the way down to his neck. He grins. “You really know how to relax a man, Brat.”

“Tell me,” I say. “You don’t have to be afraid, Slick. You don’t have to be afraid that you’re not good enough for us.”

He flinches, looks away, studying the dirt track. “That’s exactly what I’m scared of,” he mutters. “You said you loved me, a couple of months back—”

“I do,” I say, without a shred of doubt in my voice, “and I always have.”

“I don’t know if you’d love me if you saw me back in Seattle. And the most fucked part is I still don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Let me ask you a couple of questions,” I say, “and then let me decide.”

“Okay . . .” He looks at me questioningly.

“Did you hurt any children?”

“No,” he says, confused.

“Did you hurt any women?”

“No.” Firmer now.

“When you hurt men, was it them or you—if you didn’t fight, would you have been killed?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Did you hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it when it was your choice?”

“No.”

“Did you rape anybody?”

“What the fuck—no.”

“Was there a way out, but instead you chose to hurt people?”

“If there was a way out, I never would’a touched a single goddamn person,” he says fiercely.

“Then whatever you did,” I say, “I don’t care. You’re still my Slick. Where it matters, you’re still the kid from those photographs. So you’ve been roughed up a little around the edges. So what? We all have.”

“Not like me,” Slick mutters. “I was bathed in blood, Brat, fuckin’ bathed in the shit.”

“And you came out on the other side.” I climb to my knees, bring my mouth close to his ear. “You came out the other side. You’re here, with me. This night is all that exists. This moment is all that matters. You’re home, Slick; this track is our home. This—”

“I love you more than I can say,” he interrupts, sounding surprised by the admission. Not surprised that he loves me, but surprised that he’s told me. “I always have, Brat. I loved you since that night we made Charlotte, but even before that, as your friend. I’ve always loved you in one way or another, and you’ll always be the only woman for me. The rest of ’em can go to hell, for all I care. All I need is you and Charlotte. That’s all I want.”

“Do you really mean that?” I realize that tears are sliding down my cheeks, salty on my lips.

“Yes,” he says. “Course I mean it.”

“I’ve always thought you loved me,” I say. “That night we shared—it was special. We were closer than any first-time lovers. It was the best night of my life. And you know I love you; there has never been anybody else for me but you, Slick.”

He turns his face to mine, his breath warm against the coolness of the night, and looks deeply into my eyes. “So we’re in love,” he says, smirking, that old cocky smirk, a smirk that has infuriated me and captivated me in equal measure over the years. “What’re we gonna do about it?”

Before I can reply, he kisses me. It is different to any other time we have kissed. He kisses me softly, so softly that at first I wonder if this is the same Slick. Then it hits me; we are closer now than we have ever been before. His lips brush mine, but then passion takes him, and he grabs my shoulders and kisses me powerfully. I bring my hands to his hair, pulling him closer, hungry for the kiss, losing myself in it. We devour each other, taking in each other’s love, each other’s pain, each other’s longing. For a long time, we kiss, faces flushed, aching. And then I reach down and press my hand against the front of his jeans. He is hard, urgently hard, so hard that when I unbutton his jeans and pull them down below his balls, his cock springs up covered in pre-come. I break off the kiss and look down at it.

“Fuck,” I moan, the length of it, the thickness, driving me wild after two months without it. “Fuck, Slick.”

“Come here,” he says.

He lays me on my back, and then pulls down my pants and my underwear in one quick motion, revealing my naked pussy, my naked legs. The air pricks my skin, but soon Slick is leaning over me, his lips pressed against mine once again. I run my hand all over his body. As we kiss, shift, his cock brushes up against my clit. I gasp, opening my mouth so that our teeth click together. Slick, reading my body like he’s been able to do since the first time we were together, reaches down and guides his cock to my clit, rubbing the helmet against it. There’s something wildly dirty about it, having his cock just pressed against my clit, so close to my hole and yet not inside of me.

“Oh, fuck,” I moan, as the pleasure begins to mount. He rubs my clit quicker, pressing his cock against it harder. I’ve never done this before: never thought to do this. The pleasure takes me by complete surprise, as he rubs up and down, circles it, and then, finally, pushes down so hard on it that I let my head fall back and moan loudly in euphoria, gazing up at the stars. But the stars are blurred by my vision. All I see is a sheet of distorted light set within blackness. “I’m nearly—” I can hardly believe it. But that’s how powerful my lust is.

He brings his face close to my ear and whispers: “Do it, Brat. Come for me, Brat. Do it. Do it.”

Warm, tickling breaths, cock pressed against my clit, emotions whirring madly in my chest, heightening it all . . .

“I—ah—I—”

The orgasm is somehow soft, velvety, like a slow gentle ride down a river of pleasure. I close my eyes against the starlight and moan out into the night like I’m singing a song. Slick keeps rubbing against me, as though we are two teenagers who are forbidden to have sex, but want the pleasure anyway. He keeps rubbing, and my pussy twists with the pleasure, my body growing warm with it, my hands clawing at his hair. And then, it passes, and I am left satisfied and yet at the same time hungry for more.

I move my hands down to his hips, and pull. Slick doesn’t need to be told twice; he’s as horny as I am, perhaps more. He slides his cock down from my clit to my hole, and then arches his back as he thrusts deep inside of me, all in one quick movement. I gasp, let out a cry, and then my pussy spreads hotly for him, and at once I begin to move up and down. But Slick reaches down, grabs me by the shoulders, and pulls me up, all whilst he’s inside of me. Before I know what he’s going for, he’s done it, and we’re sitting opposite each other, straddling each other, me on top of him, him deeper inside of me than I knew he could get, somewhere near my belly.

We begin rocking together slowly, back and forth, eyes locked on each other, as much love as pleasure moving between us with each movement. He moves his hands beneath my shirt, bracing my bare back, spreading goosebumps all over my body with his touch. I sit down, over and over, on his cock, burying him within me down to his balls. We moan in unison, surprisingly soft moans, passionate moans, the moans of lovers instead of just people fucking.

I see the pleasure in his face, in the way his lips twitch, in his eyes, getting wider, as though amazed by what we are doing. I feel the same; there is a connection between us. He shifts, and I shift. He thrusts, and I angle my hips so that he slides right into my sweet spot. I grip his shoulders and sit up, high, and then sit down with all the strength in my thighs. He gasps, and I giggle.

“I love you, Sky,” I moan, knowing that it’s a risk. Slick has always been a man’s man, a hard man; even as a boy, he was like that. It might be a turn off for him, for it to be this emotional.

But he just reaches around, grabs my ass cheeks, and then drives into me so hard I let out a scream which echoes around the mountains. “I love you, Brat.”

Grabbing my ass, he slides into me, sensually, deeply, until I feel another orgasm coming, hot, burning, and the heat and the burning is in my chest, as well. The emotion and the pleasure in my pussy combine, each making the other larger, each making the other more intense. I love him the more he thrusts into me, and the thrusts feel more pleasurable the more he loves me. I sit down, again, again, taking in the pleasure, until I feel it building to breaking point, until I feel the lips of my pussy tingling like a feather is being trailed across them, until I feel my hole going tight around him. I kiss him, and that seals it; the orgasm breaks upon me like waves breaking upon a beach, slow yet powerful. I force myself not to close my eyes. I ride the orgasm as I look into his sky-blues, my pussy burning with the heat of a thousand fires, raging beneath me, his body suddenly hot to the touch, his lips scorching into my lips as he kiss. Aching for him, I release all over his cock, my come sliding down the shaft and onto his balls. I arch my back, driving my hips down, sitting once more as another wave breaks upon the beach.

“Oh, fuck,” Slick whispers, and I know he’s about to come.

I grip his face in my hands—my hands trembling with the ecstasy of the moment—and stare into eyes I have dream of my entire life as he comes inside of me. Gazing at each other, euphoria takes us both, throws us about, my pussy burning as his cock pulses and wilts. I’m still coming as he finishes, both of us burning with pleasure as one. And then, after what feels like an eternity spent within each other’s embrace, we fall into each other, my lips on his neck, his hand stroking my hair.

“This was the best night of my life,” I whisper, kissing his neck.

“Mine, too,” he says. And I know he means it.

Bri

I wake up to the sound of Slick whispering my name. In the sky, birds tweet, and far away car engines growl toward the city. I don’t open my eyes at first, enjoying the way the sun shines through my closed eyelids, enjoying the way Slick sounds when he says my name. I imagine I am in bed on a lazy Sunday morning and Slick is waking me for breakfast, Charlotte already in the living room, playing, reading, and soon we’ll go out there and play with her and read to her. And then I’ll make us bacon, and Slick will call me Brat and pat me on the ass and we’ll laugh and then go for a walk and—

I open my eyes.

“Morning,” Slick says. “I reckon it’s time we got you back.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, though the last thing I want to do is face Heather. “You’re probably right.”

He offers me his hand and then helps me to my feet. As we walk back toward the bike, I ask, “What’s your plan, Slick? About the club, I mean.” In the night, it was like we could forget about everything real, everything that got in the way of us. Now, in the fresh light of day, that’s much harder. Reality seeps in at the edges; it has to be faced.

“Honestly, Brat, I don’t have one,” he says. “I’ve got no goddamn idea what I’m gonna do. They’re gonna be lookin’ for me, I know that much. And I ain’t runnin’. That’d mean leaving you and Charlotte, and that ain’t happening. So what?” He shrugged. “Looks like I’m a courier without a road to ride.”

“Maybe you should run,” I say, when we’re at the bike. I see Slick has put the photo box in the storage compartment.

“It’s for you,” he says, seeing me looking.

“Something to remember us by?”

“I ain’t running,” he says.

“Then what . . . Wait a second.”

An idea occurs to me. It’s dangerous, and relies on Heather, and Dad, being reasonable for once. It will mean that I have to be as convincing as I’ve ever been in my life. But if I make it clear that I won’t budge, it might work. And might is better than anything we have right now.

When I tell Slick, he shrugs. “Give it a go, if you want,” he says. “But I won’t hold my breath.”

He climbs onto the bike, nods at the leather and the helmet, and waits. “Drop me down the street,” I say, before climbing on behind him. “They might have Heather’s place staked out.”

“Yeah, most likely,” Slick replies. “My own damn club, staking me out, after all I’ve done for ’em. Clint really has twisted the bastards. Hell, Grizzly has twisted himself.”

“You’re right,” I say, hugging close to him. “Dad has made a mistake, the way he’s treated you. Hopefully he’ll see that.”

“Yeah.” Clint kicks the bike to a low growl. “Right.”

We leave the dirt track, and the wonderful memories, behind us.

When Slick drops me off at the end of the street and I’ve handed him his jacket and his helmet, we kiss briefly. Then I ask, “How will I reach you?”

“Wait a sec.” He reaches into the jacket pocket and takes out a pen and scrap of paper, and then scrawls down a phone number. “We used to use this for drops, back when I was a courier. It’s a payphone. When you wanna reach me, dial it, let it ring twice, and then hang up. Then dial it again and let it ring until I answer.”

“Why not just let it ring?” I ask, taking the number.

“’Cause the club might still use this phone,” he says. “Don’t wanna risk it.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath, looking at him as he shrugs his jacket on, as sexy as ever, as captivating as ever. “I hope this works.”

He doesn’t look hopeful, just stares at me for a long time. As he gazes at me, all I can think about is climbing onto the back of his bike and riding with him to someplace far away, taking Charlotte and just escaping. It’s a thought that has reoccurred countless times since we’ve been apart, and something both of us know can never happen. We have too much holding us to Denver. Slick would never leave his father’s club. And I could never take Charlotte away from Dad. We’re the only family he has left.

“Alright,” Slick says, pulling his helmet on. “It’s time to ride. S’you soon, Brat.”

“See you soon,” I say, swallowing nervously.

Slick rides away. I walk down the street towards Heather’s apartment building. The street is alive with people heading to work. I see an old lady shooting me a dirty look over her long, crooked nose; she’s seen me with Slick and doesn’t approve, apparently. The whole world doesn’t improve of me and Slick. Everybody wants us to just give up. But we won’t. After last night, I know we never can. It was too special. We were too close. How could I go back to some other man after what we shared? How could I pretend to be happy without anybody but him?

Walking up the stairs to Heather’s apartment feels like the long walk to the gallows, except that I have something worse waiting for me at the end of it than a noose: Heather’s fearsome anger, her righteous outrage. When I walk through the door, I hear Heather pacing up and down, her feet clopping on the floor. When I walk around the corner, I see her wringing her hands, her hair a mess, her face bright red. She wheels on me, lip curling over her teeth. I feel like a teenager when she asks me the age-old question, the question Dad asked me countless times when I was a kid.

“Where have you been, young lady?”

I tell her, as I sit on the couch, about sneaking out to see Slick, about being with him, about loving him. In the other room, Charlotte is playing with her toys. I can hear her sweet giggling noises. After I’ve told her, I interrupt her from unleashing on me to go into the bedroom and see Charlotte, giving her a kiss on the head and making sure she’s okay. Then I return to the living room, to find Heather once again pacing, once again wringing her hands. She’s tried to smooth out her hair but has only succeeded in smoothing more kinks into it. She tries to smooth it out a second time, and only succeeds in making her hair more bush-like. She gives up, makes a loud huffing sound, drops onto the couch, and folds her arms.

“Well?” she says, staring at me.

I get the feeling she wants to leap across the coffee table and scratch my eyes out. She’s looking at me like it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Eyes brimming with outrage. I reflect, not for the first time, that Heather has done an admirable job of bringing all the terrifying characteristics of a mom into my life.

“Well, what?” I ask.

“Well what, she says!” Heather leaps to her feet. I’m pretty sure she only sat down so she’d have the opportunity to leap to her feet. “Now you listen here, young lady!” she snaps. “I have not been an auntie to you all these years just to have you skulk away in the night and go off with some—with some—”

“Leather-wearing bandit?” I offer.

“Yes!” she screams, waving her arms frantically. “I only want what’s best for you, you know that, you have to know that! Ever since you were a—”

“I need your help,” I say, cutting her off.

“My help ?” She brings her hand to her chest like a melodramatic actor. “What help could I possibly offer you? Why should I help you? You abandoned our daughter and went gallivanting off into the night with a man who has no business being with you, who can only do you harm, who will most likely cause you heartache one day. And you want my help .”

“Listen to me, Heather,” I say, walking around the coffee table and standing close to her. I put my hand on her shoulder, which softens her a little. I see it, in her face, in the way she lets out a begrudging sigh. “I need you to know something. I need you to listen, and know I’m being serious. I love Slick. I have always loved Slick. I want to be with him. I’m going to be with him.”

“Now wait one second—”

“No!” I break out. “Why don’t you wait a second, huh? I’m so sick and tired of everybody telling me what’s good and bad for me. Everybody telling me what I should do, who I should be with. I love Slick! I love him, and he’s good for me, and he’s Charlotte’s daddy! Isn’t that enough?”

“Dadda?” Charlotte murmurs, from behind me.

I turn and see her standing in the doorway, clutching onto it, face tilted at us, mouth in a cute O. “Dadda?” she repeats.

“Dadda,” I say, going to her and picking her up. “Dadda, sweetie.” I kiss her, and then whisper in her ear, “Do you want to meet Dadda one day soon?”

“Dadda!” Charlotte squeals, clutching my neck and kissing me on the cheek. “See Dadda—lemme see Dadda!”

“You will,” I say. “Soon, baby, you will. But first we have to sort some grownup things out, okay? Why don’t you go and play with your blocks, alright, honey?”

I set her down and she returns to the bedroom. Not for the first time, I thank the heavens for making her a well-behaved kid.

“You see,” I say, returning to Heather. “Charlotte wants her father, too. She doesn’t want some asshole you set me up with pretending to be her dad. She wants her real dad. And her dad is a good man. So what’s the problem?”

Heather shifts from foot to foot, a cornered animal, cornered by logic and emotion. She must be able to see how much I care for Slick. And there’s no way she can ignore how badly Charlotte wants to see her father. You can raise a kid without a dad, but it’s difficult to tell a kid they’ve got a dad and then take that away. If there’s one person Heather loves more than anyone, it’s Charlotte. She doesn’t want to see her hurt.

She slumps onto the couch. I go to her, sit beside her. For a while, she just gazes at the coffee table. I see our reflections in the huge TV: both of us looking flustered and disheveled, but for different reasons.

“You said you needed my help?” Heather mutters.

“Does that mean you’ll help me?” I ask.

“Don’t twist the knife,” Heather says. “I just—look, Brianna, I can’t be the one to keep that girl away from her father. You know that. I think you planned that. I think you went in there and told that little angel to come out there and say Dadda to trap me.”

“I didn’t,” I say honestly. “But that’s a good idea. I should have, instead of leaving it to luck.” I grin at her. She returns it, a little weakly, but with real emotion in there.

“You Shields,” Heather says, groaning. “There’s no talking to you. What do you need help with?”

“I want you to set up a meeting with Dad and Slick,” I say. “He’ll listen to you.”

“What!” Heather cries, throwing her hands up. But it’s a performance, meant to trick me.

I’m not tricked. “Heather,” I say, taking her hands and looking closely at her, “I know you like to pretend that you have no contact with Dad, but I know that’s not true. I’ve seen you two, over the years, meeting in the clubhouse. And even since I’ve been living here, I’ve heard you on the phone. And let’s face it, arranging for me to stay here didn’t happen by telepathy, did it?”

She blushes, looking away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she murmurs.

“Heather!”

She starts, and then shakes her head slowly. “Why do you want me to set up a meeting with Jacob?” she asks.

Jacob, I note; only a select few have ever called him Jacob.

“Because I need him to see Slick. I need him to hear Slick out. I can’t have him treating Slick like this anymore. I need him to properly hear Slick out, really listen to him. I’m tired of him treating Slick like some kid. He isn’t a kid. He was the best courier this club has ever had, and now he’s one of the best earners. And—he’d done things, for the club—”

“I don’t want to hear that,” Heather says with dignity. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“But you’ll set up the meeting?”

“What’s the alternative? Being the reason for Charlotte never knowing her daddy? A lifetime of resentment from you and her when Slick is hidden away from the two of you? Being forced to see you reduced to tears when the love of your life is sent away, or worse? Is that the other option, Brianna?”

I don’t need to answer. She knows it already.

She stands up and goes to the phone as I watch. It seems like the conversation happens very quickly. When she returns to me, she tells me she has arranged for the meeting to take place in a bar down the street.

“Why not here?” I ask.

“Because he thinks Grizzly might use the privacy as an opportunity to hurt him.”

“You’re kidding!”

She shrugs. “Let’s get her ready. I’ll come into the bar to say hello, but then I’m waiting in the car with Charlotte. I want no part of this—more than I’ve already had, I mean.”

About half an hour later, we’re sitting in Heather’s stylish sedan outside a bar called Primadona . It’s a fancy place, with pink neon letters and a bright lit-up figure of a curvy woman leaning on the P , holding a cocktail glass in her hand, and waving for the customers to come through the doors with the other. Inside, it’s mostly empty, apart from a few women in the corner with pink bands across their torsos, the word Hen on them.

“Why did you pick here?” I ask, climbing from the car.

Heather smiles shyly. “I couldn’t resist the urge to see Grizzly in a place like this,” she admits.

I take Charlotte from the car and we walk into the building, across the dance floor to a corner booth. I’m surprised to see Dad sitting there alone, a whisky before him, tapping the table with his fingertips. I thought he’d have a few men with him. I don’t even get a chance to say hello when he rises to his feet and brushes down his clothes, like a man before a date. I watch in astonishment as Grizzly, the man who for all my life has been a terrifying MC President, makes as though to offer Heather his hand to shake, and then thinks better of it and nods instead.

“Heather,” he murmurs, completely ignoring me and Charlotte.

“Jacob,” Heather says.

Before we left, Heather straightened her hair and put on a red sparkling dress I’ve only ever seen her once before: in a club, at night, when she wanted to attract the attention of men. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but seeing her at ten o’clock in the morning in an empty bar standing before Dad in that attention-grabbing dress really brings it home. Heather truly does have a thing for Dad!

“I . . . uh . . . I was surprised it was you who called me,” Dad says, like a nervous teenager.

“Yeah, well—you know.”

After an awkward pause, both of them seem to remember where they are. Heather spins on her heels—red, sparkling, emphasizing her calf muscles—and takes Charlotte from my embrace. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of business.”

She leaves the bar, clip-clipping on the floor, with Dad watching her every step of the way. It isn’t until she’s completely out of view that Dad turns to me. “Where is he, then?”

“Are we just going to pretend that didn’t happen?” I ask, sitting down in the booth.

“What?” Dad grunts, returning to his seat.

“You and Heather—”

“Nothing happened.” He tosses back his whisky. “Where is he, Brianna?”

“I have to call him. He wouldn’t come right away.”

“Scared?” Dad asks.

“Smart,” I counter.

“Call him, then.” Dad waves a hand, and then sits back in his chair. I’ve seen him like this before. Dormant but angry, moments before he flies into a rage. He never aims the rage at me, but I’ve seen him with the men over the years, waving his hand in the same way before going berserk. But right now he’s calm, and here, and listening. That’s all I can ask for.

I take out my cell and the scrap of paper.

Wondering how all of this is going to turn out, so nervous my hand is shaking, I make the call.

Slick

I have to ask for the name of the bar twice. Even when I’ve got it, I find it damn hard to believe that Grizzly would ever go to a place like that. He must have another reason for agreeing to the location, something I don’t know about. I wonder for a second if it might be Heather. I remember seeing them together when I was a kid sometimes, but they always seemed to dislike each other. I let it slide and climb onto the bike, kick it alive, and make for Primadona. Sitting outside the bar, just down the street, I do a quick scan of the surrounding areas. No Clint. No club men. Just an everyday street with a bar at the end of it.

As I climb from the bike, I keep feeling a phantom gun in the back of my head, reckoning that at any second one of Clint’s men is gonna get the drop on me. But I listen as I walk and don’t hear shit. Still, it’s only when I’ve walked through the bar’s doors and seen the hen party in the corner that I feel any sort of safe. I reckon Clint’s men ain’t above shooting up a place like this, but they wouldn’t wait this long, lettin’ me get close to Boss. When I reach the table, Grizzly is running his finger along the rim of an empty whisky glass and Brat is just sitting there with her hands in her laps, looking between us anxiously.

“Drink?” I say, as my opening line, not sure what else to say.

“Whisky,” Grizzly says.

“Alright.”

As I turn towards the bar, Brat says, “And me. Please.”

“Alright.”

I go to the bar and order three whiskies. The three of us sit silently, listening to the low, thumping music and the giggling of the hen party, as we wait for the drinks. When they arrive, we all drink them down in one gulp, Brat making a hissing noise and shaking her head. Then Grizzly sits up, placing his elbows on the table.

“Why am I here, Slick?”

“’Cause you wanna hear me out, I reckon.” I watch him as I speak, trying to gauge if I’m right. I’ve been giving it some thought. “Two months back, you locked me in the clubhouse. After I did the most for this club that’s ever been done. I reckon you didn’t just come to this idea on your own. I reckon you had that fuck Clint whisperin’ in your ear every step of the way. I reckon you’re here ’cause you’ve started to see things in Clint that you don’t like. Maybe what I said to you at the house has got you thinkin’, I dunno. All I know is you’re here and willin’ to listen, which means somethin’ must’ve changed.”

Grizzly looks away, muttering, “You’re not wrong.” I have a moment of hope, but then he follows it up with, “But that don’t change the fact that you’re drooling all over my daughter.”

“I love your daughter,” I say. “I wanna be with your daughter. Here’s the truth, Grizzly, the truth you must know by now. Charlotte is mine. Charlotte is my daughter. And if you think a man like me is goin’ to step away from my daughter and her mother, even if they happen to be your daughter and grand-daughter, you need to remind yourself who I am.”

Grizzly looks at me like he wants to punch my face in. I’ve seen him look at men like that before, and I’ve seen him smash their faces in before. But then he relaxes and leans back.

“You’re right,” he says. “I’ve known. Course I’ve known. I’m not fuckin’ blind. But I never was happy about it. That’s the truth. I wanted Brianna to have a life outside the life, a man who wasn’t—”

“Like you,” I say.

“Like me,” Grizzly agrees. He sighs, and then rubs his forehead. He looks more like a man who just wants to be left alone than the Boss right now, a man tired who hasn’t slept in years. “I don’t know if you’re right about Clint,” he says. “Got no damn idea. That’s the problem. I’ve got no damn idea no more. Got so many bastards comin’ into the club vouched for by Clint. The other day, I hear two of the bastards callin’ him Boss. I let it slide, ’cause they didn’t know I heard ’em. But . . . it’s gettin’ out of hand. But there’s one thing, Slick. There’s one thing I need to know. Clint says you betrayed us up there in Seattle. I need to know the truth. I need to know what happened up there.”

I grip the edge of the table, real dread taking hold of me. Images come into my mind: bloody, painful. Beside me, Brat makes an encouraging noise. Or maybe it’s a word. I don’t know; I can’t hear. All I can hear are the screams and begging pleas and roars of desperation from the men I was forced to kill; all I can hear are the Skull fucks calling me Beast, cheering me on as I kill mostly innocent men for their goddamn entertainment. All I can hear is a voice whispering in my head telling me I’ll never be good again, never be Sky playing with Brat on dirt bikes in the Rockies. I’ll always be the fuckin’ Beast, an animal, a killer, a traitor.

“Slick? Slick?”

Her voice comes to me like it’s inside my head, not outside. I hear her whispering inside, trying to draw me out. Then she places her hand on my forearm and I sit bolt upright like a gunshot has just gone off.

“Shit, sorry,” I mutter.

Grizzly squints at me, searching. “Let it out, son,” he says.

It’s the first encouraging thing he’s said to me since I got back from that hellhole.

“You might wanna de-patch me when you hear it,” I say.

“Let me decide on that,” Grizzly says. “Just let it out.”

I didn’t want to tell Brat like this, in a bar with Brittany Spears being tortured on the karaoke machine, the whole place smelling like glitter and cocktails. But I know I don’t have a choice, either. This might be my only chance to let Grizzly know what went on and have him actually listen to my side of the story, without Clint twisting him against me. I take a deep breath, thankful for Brat having her arm on my shoulder, giving me support. It’s tough for a man to talk about normal, everyday shit that goes on in his head, let alone this stuff.

So I get through it all as quickly as I can, telling it from start to finish. I go over the guns being fakes, my bike breaking down on me, being thrown into the warehouse where all I could do was read and wait for the Masked Man to inflict his goddamn torture on us. I tell about the machete and the gunshot. And then I get to the night of blood and I have to order another whisky. When I’ve necked that and my chest is a little warmer than it was a minute ago, I go into the night of blood, explaining to them both about how the Skulls had shotguns and forced me to keep killin’ unless I wanted to die. When I get to this part, Brat starts to cry, soft sobs, dabbing at her face with a napkin. I can’t look at her, not yet, ’cause there’s still more to tell. I go on, and tell them about how after they decided I was the Beast, they forced me to ride with them and wear their patch. I tell how I was forced to fight other Seattle clubs with ’em, kill, steal, act as courier or muscle, and how there were always three men following me everywhere I went, ready to put a bullet in my head. I tell Grizzly that every time he came down and saw me in the cell, that was a show, put on by the Skulls to fool him.

And then I sit back, panting with the force of the memories, and wait for Grizzly to tell me that this shit is unacceptable, that this is the shit that gets a man de-patched, or worse.

Brat is still sobbing, can’t seem to be able to stop. She takes my hand and brings it to her lap, gripping it with both of hers. I expect Grizzly to say somethin’ about this, but he doesn’t. He just watches me. His expression is changed, now. It’s more like how he used to look at me when I was young, when I was his adopted son, before all this stuff went down.

“I held your father as he died,” he says, looking past me now. “Those fuckers shot him through the chest, and I held him when we waited on that damn slow ambulance. I held him, blood all over me, looking down at my best friend and seein’ the life go from his eyes. Do you know what he said, Slick? Do you know what his last words were? My son ain’t got a mom, and now he ain’t got a daddy, neither. Take care of him, Jacob. Take damn good care of him .”

Grizzly smashes the table with his fist, causing me and Brat to jump in our seats. “Whisky!” he roars.

When he’s drunk the whisky, he says, “What do you want with my daughter, Slick?”

“To be her protector,” I answer at once. “To watch out for her and my daughter. To be there for ’em.”

“Done,” Grizzly says. “Fuckin’ done. And fuck anyone who’ll get in the way of that. I told your dad I’d protect you, and I failed. I fuckin’ failed. Every time I wanted to take the boys down to Seattle and storm you out of that hellhole, I had Clint in my ear, tellin’ me it was too dangerous, you weren’t worth it. And I fuckin’ listened .” He makes a growling noise, and then lifts his whisky glass before realizing it’s empty. “Listen, I can’t say I’m happy about you two bein’ together. I wouldn’t go that far. But Brianna has always said I wouldn’t be happy with anyone she chose. And I reckon that’s right. Sittin’ here with you, Slick, and hearin’ your story, I believe that for the first time. If you ain’t good enough, who is?”

“That means a lot to me,” I say. “A damn lot.”

“Alright, let’s get back to the clubhouse before we start growing lady parts.”

“Dad!” Brat squeals, her voice breaking through her tears. “Why’d you have to go and ruin a nice moment like that?”

The three of us make for the exit. “I’ve gotta tell the men that you’re all good, Slick. Let ’em know that you’re one of us again, and not to bother you in anyway. You’ve got a few loyal to you anyway, ain’t you? Spike and a couple of the old boys.”

“A few,” I agree, as we walk out into the street. “Don’t know how Clint’s men’ll take it, though.”

“They’ll take it,” Grizzly says. “That’s all that matters.”

Slick

When I see Spike with his head covered in blood and his body twitching, at first I don’t believe what my eyes are telling me. I’ve seen Spike around the club enough times, offering me a supportive smile and sometimes shooting pool with a couple of the older guys. He’s even whispered to me a couple of times that he’d help me escape if I needed it. He’s a good kid. Me and Grizzly stand in the doorway, lookin’ down on him, both of us not knowing what to make of a Rager on his back in the entrance lobby to the clubhouse. After what feels like a damn long time, my paralysis fades and I run to him, kneeling down beside him.

“Spike,” I say. “You alright, kid?”

He grins up at me, dazed out of his mind. “Gotta get those fishies, Slick,” he says, his teeth covered in blood. “Gotta get those fishies ’fore you get to fry ’em.”

“You’ve had a knock to the head, kid,” I tell him. “Wait here. I’ll get some damn ice—or somethin’.”

But when I stand up, I see that Grizzly’s got his gun out. He brings his fingers to his lips and points at the door to the bar. That’s when I notice it: the silence, silence like there never is in a club. When you walk into the clubhouse, you hear glasses and pool balls and men laughing and shouting. You hear swearing and fighting and fists slamming onto tables. You never hear silence, like it’s a fuckin’ library. I take out my gun and follow Grizzly as he approaches the door. The two of us go to either side of the door, crouched against the wall, and then Grizzly holds up his fingers. Three, two, one . . .

We smash into the bar to find half of the men tied up in the corner, Trevor watching over them with a huge machine-gun bigger’n most men’s torsos, staring ’em down, the other half all standing around Clint, who has dragged out Grizzly’s throne-like office chair into the bar and sits in the middle, a gun in his hand, watching the door. The men behind him have guns, too, handguns and sub-machine guns, all of them aimed at me and Grizzly. I see the men loyal to me and Grizzly tied up try and shout and fight when they see us, but they’re gagged and tied arm to arm and then to the floor, like a shackled line of prisoners in the Old West. Grizzly and me ain’t got a choice but to lower our guns. It’s clear Clint has somethin’ to say. Otherwise, we’d be dead right now.

Grizzly barks, “You’re a fuckin’ coward, Clint. A fuckin’ coward.”

“Don’t be so rude,” Clint says, rising to his feet. He’s wearing a spotless white suit and white shoes, with a silver watch. A fuckin’ fop. A fuckin’ dandy. Once again I can’t believe these assholes are following this piece of shit. And once again I have to remind myself that beneath all the showiness, Clint is a violent psychopath.

“What’ve you done?” Grizzly says. “The fuck have you done? Who do you think you are?”

“I am the man with all the guns and all the support—well, all the support which isn’t about to be mowed down by an impressively big gun, that is.”

“You’re a dead man,” Grizzly says. “You’re a fuckin’ dead man.”

Clint just laughs at that. “I fail to see how you came to that conclusion,” he replies. “But you always were slow, weren’t you, Jacob? A big slow fucking oaf that I had to stand beside and watch as you made poor decision after poor decision.”

“What’s this fuckin’ woman offered you?” Grizzly asks, turning to the men who surround the throne. I recognize many of them, all of them in Rager leathers, many of them recent additions to the club—Clint’s additions. “What could a fuckin’ woman like this offer you to betray your club?”

“Just a good reason, Jacob,” Clint says, hefting his gun. Even his weapon is stylish, a large silver Desert Eagle to match his outfit. The extent that this man’ll go to make an impression shocks me, even now. “These men here care about profit,” he went on, nodding to the men behind him, “and these poor deluded bastards care about loyalty.” He nodded at the tied up men.

“You fucked up with the one in the lobby,” I say. “Meant to kill him, did you? Just wounded him, Clint, you fuckin’ asshole.”

Clint bristles, and then gestures to the men behind him. “Go and get the boy in here.”

I relax. That was what I wanted. In here, at least I can keep an eye on him. I don’t want him out there bleeding and dying with no one to see it. As the men pass by me and Grizzly, I see Grizzly tense up, like he’s about to jump on one of them. Both of ’em are holding sub-machine guns—Uzis—and both of ’em are new, so new they probably hardly even know Grizzly or me, and’d have no problem killing us. Grizzly must think the same thing, ’cause he settles back. Goddamn, but I’m glad Brat went with Heather, and not here with us. The men bring Spike in. I’m glad to see he’s moaning, still alive. It just seems he’s dazed, is all. He makes to fight, even in his dazed state, but I say, “Just let ’em tie you up, kid. They’ll kill you.”

Hearing my voice, he slumps in their arms, and lets them carry him to the rest of the men.

“Smart boy,” Clint says, enjoying himself. I hate how much he’s clearly enjoying himself. Like this is a damn show, like these aren’t men’s lives we’re talking about, like this ain’t the club we’re talking about. Some of the men behind him just look like mercenaries, like bought and paid-for guns, nothing more. These are the kinds of men who’d stand by and watch as whole clubhouses weren’t burnt to the ground and wouldn’t give a damn. It wouldn’t have taken men like these months to take off their leathers and put on the Skulls’ leathers; they would’a done it right off, on principle. But most of them are men I recognize, club men who’ve just been led astray.

“Let me tell you something,” he says, looking at me. “You little fuck .” The first sign of real rage shows in his face, and I focus on it, getting my plan ready. It’ll be dangerous—Clint is tough, far tougher’n he looks—but it’s the only way I can see getting out of this. But first I’ve gotta let him give his little speech. It’s clear he needs to say it, on some level. “Do you wanna know what really happened in Seattle, Slick? Do you really wanna fuckin’ know?” He flashes a grin, calming himself. “I arranged for those guns to be faulty. I hired men to seal the ammo slots, and I also hired a clever mechanic who knew how to fix your bike so it would work on the way there, but not the way back. It was me.”

My calm, measured plan goes out the window. Rage grips me, real rage, rage which causes my vision to blur and my head to ache. A throbbing, far back in my head, a throbbing telling me to just run at him and end it now, squeeze his fuckin’ head until it pops like a watermelon. I even step forward, before Grizzly puts his arm out, blocking me.

“Why?” My voice is hoarse with anger.

“Why?” Clint laughs. “Because I was fuckin’ tired of seeing that big bastard there treat you like you were anything more than a goddamn courier. Calling you son and all that shit. I was VP, and he brought you into the fold way more than me. So I sent you away—to die, really. But it seems you’re so fuckin’ stupid you don’t even know how to do that.”

“Enough talkin’!” Grizzly roars. “Do what you’re gonna do, Clint.”

“Unfortunately,” Clint says, “I can’t do what I would really like to do. You see, some of my men have relatives—stupid relatives, but relatives all the same—in your camp. So I can’t just throw them in a pit and set them on fire.” He smiles, and I know he means it, that he would really do that. “So here’s the deal. All of you are going to leave Colorado, forever. I’ll give you twenty-four hours. If any of you dumb fucks are still here by then, you all die.”

“You know that won’t work,” Grizzly says. “Course you know that.” Grizzly looks closely at Clint, and I see it at the same time he does; Clint has another plan. “Nah, you’re gonna kill us all the same, just in some way those with family in the club don’t know about, eh? Smart, evil bastard.”

I shrug Grizzly’s arm away—he’s been holding me back this entire time—and take a step forward. All the men behind Clint aim their weapons at me, but right now, knowing that this is the fuck who’s responsible for having me shot and hacked at, the man who made me the Beast, the man who stole two years with my daughter, I don’t give a damn how many guns they have pointed at me. I look past Clint to his men, arms held in the air, completely defenseless.

“Look at you,” I say, looking each man in the eye in turn. A couple of ’em stare back, but most of them turn away. A good sign, I reckon. It means there’s some guilt in there. It means Clint hasn’t taken all of their loyalty from them, just a few of them. It means I can get through to them. “Is this the man you wanna follow? Is this the man you’re gonna trust with the fuckin’ club?” I remember reading, back in that icy, frosted cell, that when you’re talkin’ to folks you’ve gotta find a way to talk on their level, gotta find logic which speaks to their logic. It was money that got ’em into this, so I’ve gotta find a way to use money to get them out of it. “Sure, Clint might know some folks with some connections. Maybe he even will make you some cash—in the short run.” I see a few of them really listening to this, really taken into account what I’m saying. “Maybe he’ll even make you more cash than you’ve ever made.” Pulling them in, using their own logic. “But what about when he decides he would rather have your share, eh? What about when this fuck decides that he’d rather take all that’s yours? What’s to protect you, the patch?” I nod at the men, tied up, Slick slumped at the end of the row. “The patch don’t mean shit to him. And if you ain’t got the patch, what’ve you got?”

I pause, breathing heavily, worked up, angry, desperate in that I want to get the hell out of here and back to Brat and Charlotte in one piece.

“Words!” Clint laughs, and some of the men laugh with him. But not all. That’s something. “You can’t talk your way out of this, Slick—”

“Then I’ll fight my way out of it!” I roar, taking another step forward, within a couple of yards of him now. Clint aims his Eagle at me. At any second, my head could be blown off. At any second, I could be sent to the grave, never seeing my woman or my daughter again. And all ’cause this bastard decided to get jealous.

“Don’t come closer,” Clint says, stroking the trigger. “Don’t be a fool.”

“I’m not the fool here,” I say. “No fuckin’ way. That’s you, Clint, you and your merry band of merry fucks. But I don’t blame them, ’cause maybe they think you’re tough. Maybe they’ve heard some stories about you. Well, here I stand.” I lift my arms higher, and then turn on the spot, demonstrating that I don’t have a weapon. “And I wanna challenge you, Clint. Let’s fight, like men. Show your boys just how tough you are. Show your boys they aint’ just followin’ a pack of words. You find words funny—show ’em you’re more than that, then.”

Clint tries to laugh this off again, but a ginger-haired man with a scar down his face mutters, “Yeah, show him.” Another man, short, with dirty blonde hair and a sliver-capped tooth, says, “Yeah, go on. A fair fight’s a fair fight.” One by one, the men start to echo each other, saying that their boss should be able to fight in a fair match, saying that they should be able to count on a President for that much, at least. All but the few hired goons.

Clint spits on the floor, stands up straight, and stares at me across the bar. “Clever boy,” he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. “Seems you learned a thing or two in Seattle.”

“No guns!” I shout. “Just fists. First to give up—or be knocked out—or die—is done!”

If there’s one thing bikers love, it’s fighting. It’s in their blood, thick, and once you introduce the idea of it, it can’t be so easily ignored. The men start stamping their feet, banging their weapons against their belt buckles to make a clink-clink-clink noise which is like the ding-ding-ding of a boxing match’s bell.

Clint has no choice. He sees it, and I see it. All he can do is drop his gun and come at me, so that’s what he does.

Clint is a dandy. Clint is a smart dresser. Clint is a fancy talker. But Clint is also a patched Rager, and that means he knows a thing or two about fighting. He comes at me quick, so quick I don’t have any time to react. His fist catches me in the side of the jaw with immense power, sending me flying to the floor. I feel like my jaw has dislocated. As I fall, blood sprays from my mouth across the room. The men start cheering and shouting. I hear Grizzly shouting at me to get my hands up. Then Clint kicks me in the stomach. I keel over, spitting more blood onto my boots. He kicks me again, and I spit again, gasping. I just manage to stand up before his next hit comes, a brutal upper-cut that would’ve floored me if it hit. I step aside, swaying, dazed, and just barely step aside to avoid a haymaker.

Then I jump back, jaw throbbing, but my vision clearing. Clint has his fists up, his white suit already flecked red with my blood. His eyes are squinted, focused. It’s like being in a fight with a wildcat, his attention completely on me, his only desire to put me down as quickly possible. Clint ain’t a fancy fighter, never has been. I once saw him stab a man in the neck with a pen and kick him into the dirt and walk away like it was nothin’.

“Come on, fucker,” I growl through the blood. “Fuckin’ come on .”

He lurches at me, but it’s a feint. He pulls back at the last moment, leaving my belly exposed, and gives me two swift jabs in the side. I cough, splutter, and he goes to work on my body. He punches me five or six times, fast, before I even have a chance to respond. And when I do, he steps cleanly out of my range. “Get your fuckin’ knees in him!” Grizzly roars, his voice the only one coming through the shouting and the pain. “Get your fuckin’ knees in the bastard, son!”

I know what he means. When I was a kid, Grizzly said the same thing to me when I used to spar with some of the men. My punches did little to them ’cause they were so much bigger, but I’ve always had damn strong legs on account of all the ridin’, ever since I was a little kid, so my knees did some work, even on full-grown men. Clint charges at me, and I let him, making it look like I’m so tired I don’t have the will to move. I sway on the spot, coughing, and let him charge right into me, wrapping his arms around my waist and trying to lift me off the ground. He wants to slam me to the floor and finish me. But I plant my feet, dig my elbows into his back, trapping him waist-height. Then I start with my knees.

I work my knees into his face, over and over, putting all the strength of my years of being a courier into it. I feel his nose pop, blood bursting over my leg, and then pop again as it breaks twice. He tries to stand up, but I keep my elbows in his back. I keep kneeing him, my legs starting to ache, and then burn, but I don’t stop. It gets so that the men stop cheering, that Clint’s body goes limp, that Grizzly has to come up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder to try and stop me. But even then I can’t stop. I’m the Beast. Slick has gone. It’s like when you put a soldier in a warzone. He don’t think. And I don’t think. I just knee, knee, knee.

“Sky!”

Her voice is the only thing in this whole world which could bring me out of this. Nothing else. No one else.

“Sky! It’s done!”

I turn, but it’s difficult to see much with all the blood on my face. I’m vaguely aware of Clint slumping to the floor behind me, moaning like a dying animal. I wipe blood from my face, or try to, but my hand is soaked with the stuff. Bathed in it, just like then, just like back then, but . . . Now I see her, a blur, but there, watching me, hands clutched to her chest, standing in the doorway. Like a bloody mirage, the only point of goodness in all my rotten fuckin’ soul. But I don’t have to be like that no more. I don’t have to be the Beast. Brat is proof enough of that. The Beast is a killer. The Beast don’t have a choice. I have a choice.

I turn back to Clint, looking down on him to make sure he’s still alive. He is, so I turn to his boys, and shout, “The fight is done and your man lies on the fuckin’ floor, can’t even goddamn speak! But I ain’t gonna kill him. I’m gonna tell him the same he tried to tell us. If he ain’t out of Colorado in twenty-four hours, he’s a dead man! Someone get him on a bike! Get him out of here!”

I watch, fear in my chest, waiting for one of the men to act. We’re still outnumbered, even if Clint is down. They could still turn on us; maybe one of them wants to become leader. But then I see the respect in their eyes, and the shame, and the guilt, and I know most of ’em just want to put all this shit behind them and get back to outlawing. I watch as the true club members move their guns from me to the real traitors, and as the traitors put their hands up.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Grizzly says, standing beside me. “Bring those bastards here, and get them the fuck outta Colorado, too. I’m done with men who don’t respect the patch.” He looks down at Clint. “Listen to the lad, Clint, ’cause what he says is true. If you ever come back here, I’ll kill you myself. You twisted me against Slick for too long. That shit’s over now.” He smiles at me, or as much as he can smile when he’s President, and then nods toward Brat. “Go to her, son. I’ll clean up this mess.”

Gratefully, I limp toward my woman.

About halfway there, I collapse, and she comes rushing toward me.

Bri

With Dad’s help, I take Slick through to the dormitory wing and lay him on the bed. He looks up at me through his mask of blood, smiling. “Bastard fuckin’ hit me enough times to shake some cobwebs loose,” he says. “Reckon I know what’s what now.”

“Is that so?” I say from the bathroom, filling a basin with water and going to him.

I kneel down beside him and begin cleaning his face, wiping the blood away. There’s a bruise on the side of his head, nasty and yellow, but the skin hasn’t broken. He has a couple of cuts below his eyes, but once they’ve been cleaned, they’re nowhere near as bad as the blood made them look. I leave him and go into the bar—Dad is untying the men, and Clint and the traitors are nowhere to be seen, probably outside being sent on their way—and return with a first-aid kit.

He winces when I pour the cleaning fluid over the cut. “Don’t be a baby,” I say.

“Baby.” He smiles again. It looks like it hurts him to smile, but he does it anyway. Maybe he thinks it’s worth it. “Baby. Baby Charlotte. I reckon I’ve earned a meeting with her, ain’t I, Brat?”

“I reckon you have,” I agree. “But why don’t we get you patched up first?”

“Alright. Nurse knows best.”

I stitch one of his cuts, but he won’t let me start on the next before I’ve got him some whisky. The next time I go in the bar, all the men are untied, and Dad is telling the men who were tricked into being on Clint’s side that they need to make it right with the others. They’ll probably agree to some system where half their pay goes to those who were loyal for a few months. The men won’t like it, but this is a club, and in a club if you haven’t got loyalty, you haven’t got anything. When I bring Slick his whisky, he’s sitting up, pillows propped behind him.

“The pain starting to wear off now?” I ask, returning to my seat.

“Not the pain. Just the dazed feelin’. Never get used to that in a fight, no matter how many you’ve been in. Dazed like your head is just gonna spin right off your shoulders and float into the sky. Damn strange.”

“Well, don’t get too excited,” I say, handing him the bottle. “There’s still another to go, yet.”

He takes a slug of whisky and I start stitching the other cut. When it’s all done, he looks like a different man to the blood-covered barbarian he was an hour ago. He drinks down half the bottle of whisky, and then asks for a cigarette. I get one from the bar and return to him. He lights up, blowing curling wisps of smoke and smiling tiredly.

“What happened?” I ask.

“When’d you get here?”

I tell him I rode here after getting a bad feeling. “Maybe it was our psychic connection,” I joke.

Slick doesn’t laugh. “Maybe it was,” he says. “Alright, so this is what went down.”

He tells me about talking Clint into a fight.

“Wow,” I say, thinking about all the ways that could’ve gone wrong, thinking about how the men could’ve just shot him down the moment he threatened their new leader. “That was risky.”

“Damn risky,” he agrees. “But what else was I gonna do? Let Clint ruin my father’s legacy? Let him ruin your father’s legacy? Fuck that.”

I bring my hand to his face, lightly touching it. “You mentioned you wanted to meet Charlotte. I think it’s about time you did, for real.”

Slick swallows, staring straight ahead.

“What is it?”

“I just . . .” He hesitates, and then gestures to his face with the whisky bottle. “I’ll scare her, Brat. Look at me. A kid don’t wanna see that.”

“But there’s more to you,” I say, reading him. I think I could read Slick better than I could ever read anybody else, maybe even Charlotte. There’s a connection there that goes beyond mere emotion; it runs as deep as time. It’s like Slick is my best friend, my lover, and the father of my child all rolled into one. Slick is a man who cannot be replaced. Slick is another part of me. “Tell me, Slick.” I stroke his stubbly cheek.

“I’m scared I’m not good enough for her,” he whispers, and I know that as he stares around the room, he’s not really staring around the room. He’s staring into the past, into what he was made to do. I think it’ll be years before her really gets over it. How long does it take a man to get over hell? I have no idea. “I’m scared that I’ll hurt her, which is damn weird ’cause the last thing in the world I wanna do is hurt her. But what if I do—by accident? My hands are killer’s hands, Brat. My hands are outlaw’s hands. My hands ain’t meant for holding children.” To my shock, I see that his eyes are teary. He takes a long swig of the whisky. “These hands are meant for snapping necks, nothin’ more.”

“You’re wrong,” I say firmly, “and I’ll prove it.”

“How?”

But I don’t reply. I stand up and walk out of the room, ignoring his questions. I get on my bike and ride to the city, to Heather’s apartment, and then Heather, Charlotte, and I return to the clubhouse. All the way, Charlotte is bobbing in her seat. When I told her she was going to meet her Dadda, she could barely contain herself. When we reach the clubhouse, she jumps out of her car seat into my arms the moment it’s unbuckled, pawing at my face, saying over and over, “Dadda, Dadda!”

“I can’t go in there,” Heather says, staring at the clubhouse, but then Dad appears in the doorway.

“Heather?”

“Jacob?”

They stare at each other for a time, and then Heather makes for the clubhouse. I follow her, but split up with her when Dad leads Heather toward his office. Charlotte squeezes my nose, squealing, “Dadda! Dadda! Dadda!”

I knock on the door, making sure Slick is ready. His voice is croaky when he calls out, “Come in.”

I don’t think tears will ever start streaming down my face so quickly and so unexpectedly ever again in my life. As soon as Charlotte sees Slick—sitting in a chair now, probably so he doesn’t seem hurt—she squirms out of my grip, drops to the floor, and pads over to him. I watch as she tilts her head up at him and murmurs, “Dadda?”

Slick grins shakily, and leans down. “I reckon so, little lady,” he says, as I cry in the doorway. He picks her up and places her on his knee, facing him. When he looks to me for support, I give him a smile of encouragement. “I’m your Dadda, alright, if you’ll have me.”

He’s careful with her, handling her as though she’s made of glass, but then Charlotte jumps up and throws her arms around his neck. “Kiss Dadda!” she squeals, kissing him on the unbruised side of his face. “Kiss Dadda! Kiss Dadda!” She kisses him over and over, each kiss making me cry all the harder, and Slick laugh all the louder.

“Look,” Slick says, when she’s stopped. He takes a small pocket-mirror from the bedside cabinet, and frames him and Charlotte in it. “Look at our eyes, princess.”

“Same,” Charlotte says, grinning.

“Same,” Slick repeats, grinning in exactly the same way.

Slick

Being with Bri never gets old. We’re in the bike shop, which a VP and the President’s daughter shouldn’t be doing even if we do have Grizzly’s blessing now. Outside, a light sleet is falling, the air crisp and wintery. But inside it is warm. I have her bent over a bike she was working on, and her moans are about the sweetest, sexiest damn thing that exists in the world. I thrust into her one last time, grabbing her ass cheeks, and I feel her come all over me. It’s a beautiful thing, the way Brat comes. First, her pussy goes tight, so tight that I can feel it like a hand squeezing my cock, and then she starts squirting all over me, so that when I look down I see the come rubbing up and down my cock as I thrust. Damn, damn beautiful.

When we’re done, I pull out and pull my jeans up, looking back toward the outside.

“That was risky,” I say, buckling my belt.

Brat giggles, facing me. “If it isn’t risky, it isn’t worth it.” She gives me a wink.

“I was sent by your dad to make sure you weren’t in here. He’s given me clear orders that you’re supposed to be a lady now. You’re supposed to have left all that tomboy stuff behind you.”

“Don’t I look like a lady?” She flicks her hair, which is longer than it’s ever been before. Soon it’ll be long enough that, when she’s naked, she’ll be able to cover her nipples with it. I can’t wait for that. I get hard again just thinking about it. She dances over to me, kissing me, and then wrapping her arms around. “I’m sure I’ve persuaded you to keep my secret, though, right?”

I grin, can’t help but grin. When I think of how things are now—me living with Charlotte and Brat in the city, being VP, having a real say in the club—to how things were a few months back, it’s difficult to believe. I still have the nightmares, don’t reckon they’ll ever go away, but hell is easier to deal with when you’ve got a couple of angels of your own.

“Thought so.” She kisses me on the nose. “Anyway, this is my bike, and I don’t exactly have another garage I can use whenever I like. But don’t worry.” Holding her grease-stained hands up. “I’m actually going full-time at another job.”

“Are you? When?”

“Tomorrow,” she says. “Heather doesn’t call me the Little Fashionista for nothing, you know.”

“Goddamn, Brat.” I put my arms around her, pulling her to me so that my cock is pressed against her tight ass. Just emptied my balls, and yet I’m hard all over again. “When you talk about fashion you get me fuckin’ goin’. You’re the best of both worlds. Half greasy monkey, half fashion lady. Glamorous and dirty all in one.”

She shifts her hips, rubbing that tight ass against me. “I think I’d prefer dirty, just one more time . . .”

***

Bri

I’ve just helped one of my regular customers, Chantelle, pick out a flowing dress which accentuates her curves when Heather comes over. Heather has been nervous all day, flustered and snappish, and I think I know why; it’s the same reason Dad was acting off when I saw him earlier. Chantelle is a busty, curvy redheaded woman with a nervous smile, which gets more nervous as Heather stomps over. She hands me the purchase catalogue. Since we’ve started buying our own stock, she’s been consulting me more and more about what to go in on. As soon as she hands it to me, I push it back.

“I’ve already looked. See?” I gesture to the sticky notes poking out from the end.

“Oh.”

She flicks to the pages, and then throws her hand up. “No way!” she cries, red-faced.

“Oh,” Chantelle murmurs, peering over Heather’s shoulder at the catalogue.

“What?” Heather says, turning to her. “What is it?”

I’ve picked out some biker-style gear, all leather and studs, kinky and cool.

“I just think it looks quite—quite exciting,” Chantelle says, making for the door. “I’m sure some of the other girls would, too.”

Heather raises an eyebrow at me, as Chantelle leaves. “The girls—your regulars, she means?”

I nod.

“Oh, fine, fine!”

She almost drops the catalogue when Dad walks in, dressed not in leathers, but in a suit. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him in a suit. I’m so startled by the sight that I just start laughing, which doesn’t help matters. He grins awkwardly, and Heather shoots me a furious look.

“Heather,” he says.

“Jacob,” she replies.

Dad clears his throat. Heather moves from foot to foot. I watch, cringing, but I’m happy for them despite the awkwardness.

After a while, Heather turns to me and says, “I’ll be back in time to watch Charlotte this evening.”

“Okay, just go! And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Heather shoots me another angry look, and then leaves, Dad holding the door open for her.

I spend the rest of the day helping customers, and then—once Heather has taken Charlotte, as promised, and once she’s ignored my questions about the date—I jump on my bike and head into the Rockies, sleet or no sleet.

Slick is there, as he said he would be, sitting at a foldout table next to my dirt bike in our metal hut. He places a picnic hamper on the table, which contains champagne and some nibbles, but I’m more interested in the blanket laid out on the floor. Candlelight throws our shadows onto the walls.

“Brat,” he says, rising to meet me. He grabs me, pulling me close to him. I love how much he takes control, how safe I feel with him.

“Brat,” I echo. “Will you ever stop calling me that?”

He grins, and shakes his head. “Don’t reckon so,” he says. “Unless you stopped being my Brat one day.”

“I never would,” I say, bringing my lips to his. Before we kiss, I whisper, “I’m glad you came home to me, Slick. I’m glad you came home to us .”

“So am I,” he says, voice throaty.

And then we kiss, and a light snow begins to fall, shrouding us.

THE END

Read on for your FREE bonus book – REX

By Paula Cox

I’M HERE TO RUIN HER LIFE.

I’m the farthest thing from a nice guy.

I’ve done things her pretty little mind can’t even imagine.

But if she wants to get out of this hellhole alive…

She’ll have to follow my every command.

I bought her because I wanted to.

Plain and simple.

But it’s just like they say: greed is good.

Because if I didn’t come along and snatch her off that auction block…

The devils around me would have eaten her alive.

They’re merciless.

I am, too – in my own way.

I want what I want – and right now, I want a taste of her.

Her sweetness.

Her innocence.

Her fear.

She might think she’d be better off without me.

But one look around will confirm the truth:

I’m the only chance she’s got.

So bare it all, princess.

I’ll give you your freedom at a price.

But never forget:

You belong to me now.

“It’s a bad idea.”

Lily Nielsen sighed as she ran a brush through her long brown hair. Of course Dan disagreed with her. What else was new?

“We already talked about---”

“I know. I know.”

Leaving the rumpled bed sheets, he drew her close to his broad chest and smiled into her neck. He smelled good. Almost too good after a night under the covers. While Lily pretended to sleep, she heard him slip into the shower, towel off, and creep back to her side. It was kind of sweet that he wanted her to wake up to find him pressed and polished.

“Dan, I---”

Silencing her with a swift kiss, Lily couldn’t resist the lure of his tight lips. He was always a good kisser; that was one of the first things she liked about him– kind of loved about him. As their tongues twirled together, she relaxed and held him. She relished the feel of his hand tightening around her wrist, and she was about to deepen their kiss when Dan suddenly pulled back with a small frown.

“Sorry,” he teased, his eyes sparkling. “Got a little rough there.”

But a part of her wanted that. When she told him of her plans, she almost wished that he would stomp his feet and toss her to the bed– tell her that she was his woman and that she wasn’t going anywhere. Old-fashioned? Sure. But Dan whining and saying that he wanted to settle down did nothing for her– the prospect of the open road did.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Whatever.” Tying her hair behind her head, she watched his reflection in the glass as he sank to the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh.

“’Whatever’?” he said. “That’s all you have to say?”

Lily had a lot more to say, but her parents were right downstairs, and she had promised them a friendly meal before she set out. Turning back to Dan, she flashed him a bright smile. “I can say other things,” she murmured. “Do other things, too.”

Winding her legs around his lap, she felt Dan growing hard. She liked that her nearness did this to him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give in and let him make an honest woman out of her. Even as her soul groaned at the prospect of table setting and flower arrangements, Dan would be good to her. Her parents would be happy if she stayed.

And right on cue, there was a knock on the door.

“Waffles!” her mother cried. “You two coming down?”

Dan started to answer when Lily turned his face to hers with a gentle smirk. She pushed her finger to his lips and shook her head. Let him stay silent. Making love in the dark when her parents were fast asleep was one thing, but she wanted to take him now, with breakfast cooling just below the steps. Let him loosen her hair and, if he drilled her hard enough, Lily would bite down on her tongue and cry out as he rode her to unparalleled heights. She imagined him kissing her harder than ever before she straightened her skirt and beckoned him to the table where she used to crayon to her heart’s content. But she would leave her hair loose and she’d keep Dan from going back to the shower– let the stink of sex come off them in waves as they asked for more maple syrup.

“Be right down, Mrs. Nielsen.”

Dan was back in the mirror before Lily and when she saw him push his blonde hair behind his flushed ears, she went back to her first thought. She needed some time to herself before she dove in for good.

“Lily? You ready?”

“Not just yet.”

Joining him in the glass, Lily straightened her hair and managed to smile. One more breakfast. Sure, she would probably come back to him in the end, but as soon as her mother started to clear the table…

“Okay,” Lily said. “Let’s go.”

Dan took her hand, and he led her down the spiral staircase, holding her softly, like something that he didn’t want to break out in the open. A part of Lily still wanted him to jump her bones right here and now, her parents’ shock be damned. But that wasn’t Dan. He liked sex, but he liked his pristine image even more. So was this to be her life? A porcelain doll at his side…?

“There they are!”

Corinne Nielsen clapped her hands fast and pulled her daughter close. Sinking into her mother’s embrace, Lily remembered skinning her knees and letting mud pies stain her white dress. Corinne could be harsh when her baby girl spoiled the scene, but she was sweet in the end. Lily loved her mother for that.

“About time.” Her father was an entirely different story.

Craig Nielsen fluffed his newspaper. No tablet for him; her dad was old school. Scrunching her face, Lily let Dan hold out her chair and she sat heavily as she unfolded her napkin across her lap. “Sorry, Dad.”

Failing to make eye contact, her father just sniffed and turned the page. “This how you plan to keep time out on the road?” Even more than Dan, Craig was anti her plan. To hear him tell it, he had paid for her education, even though, in the back of his mind, he only wanted Lily to snag a husband– to be one less thing that he had to worry about. Dan’s presence almost connected the dots.

But Lily was about to throw a fresh wrench into the mix. “Just planning to follow the sun, Dad,” Lily said.

Craig finally set his paper aside.

“The sun sets, Lily,” he said. “What then?”

“I…” She wanted to tell him that she didn’t care. There was always the moon, and she wanted the chance to grope through the dark and explore… hope… “I’ll figure it out, Dad.” She wouldn’t embarrass Dan at her father’s table. Smiling at her boyfriend, she patted his hand. “Just a few weeks,” she said. “I’ll be back in no time.”

Dan started to grow hot under his collar, and Craig seized on the sight.

“You see?” he said. “Dan doesn’t want you to go. Do you, son?”

Lily tensed as she waited for Dan’s response. As much as he protested, he said that he got it in the end. She wanted to feel the wind on her back, see everything that might be out there, and Lily swore that she would come back. And she would. She probably would. Unless…

“I will miss you, Lily.”

It could have been sweet, should have sounded that way, but there was something slightly threatening in Dan’s tone– like she should only go at her own risk. Maybe he wouldn’t be there when she came back. As his hold tightened around her hand, Lily longed for it to feel warm, welcoming. But it was like he wanted her to come around under her father’s harsh gaze and throw her hands into the air– suddenly just say that she was just kidding. They could start picking out china patterns as soon as breakfast was done. And it would probably happen soon enough. It was just a trip. A long drive. And Lily wanted Dan to believe in that.

“I’ll miss you, too,” she said. She kissed his cheek and tried to turn the conversation back to her father’s discarded paper, but Craig formed a fist, and the table shook under the force of his blow.

“Then stop this foolishness and grow up already!”

He wanted that the second she was out of diapers. Because babies, little girls, were messy. Wives like Corinne batted their eyelashes and held their tongues, but that wasn’t Lily. Not yet. Maybe never…

“I am grown up, Dad,” she said. “And I’m just trying---”

“Are you really okay with this?” Craig ignored his daughter and focused all of his attention on Dan and pressed his hands to his hips. “Why don’t you man up and keep her close to home?”

Lily was ready to lay into her father when she saw Dan squirming out of the corner of her eye. He was dancing too close to her father’s line of thinking, and Lily started to head back to her room, ready to leave now, when a set of fingers curled around her wrist. “Dad! Don’t---”

But the hands were Dan’s, and Lily had to look twice as Dan tried to stand tall.

“Your… your father has a point,” Dan he said.

He does not! Lily told him; she whispered into his ear over and over again as they lay side by side. Craig Nielsen wanted to control her, and Lily was not to be held down. Dan said that he got it, that he wanted her to find herself, that he wanted her to be whole with him. And Lily believed him.

“We… maybe we should start making plans.”

Plans? “What are you---?”

“Look, Lily.”

She let him take her hand, and Lily tensed as she waited for whatever he might say.

Turn around. Come back to my side. You said that you got---

“But… you’d be better off… you’d…”

He couldn’t finish the thought, and Lily leapt.

“I just want some time to myself!” she screamed.

“Lily, you---”

Pushing past her lover, Lily stared her father down. “And I’ve earned this,” she said.

Craig’s laugher shook her to the core of her soul. “And what happens when you need my help?” he asked,

Lily would sooner die than ever ask for it, and she stretched close to her father’s height and glared at him. “I won’t,” she said.

Leaving the table, Lily packed faster. She had promised that she would stay through that night’s dinner, but she wanted to leave now. Leave and never look back…

“Lily?”

Dan lingered in the doorway, and Lily was stiff as he took her hand.

“Please… please don’t go.”

Seeing her reflection in his sad dog stare, Lily hesitated. To look at him on paper, to explore him in the flesh, he appeared perfect. He had never been anything but good to her, and the sex…She had some complaints there. Every time she wanted to try a different position, introduce a little kink into their routine rituals, he made like a choirboy. Her mother would say that suggested a good husband, a loyal man who would never get bored and never stray. And maybe there would come a day when she’d be grateful for the security, but right now…

“If you think I’m spending one more night here---”

“Lily– ”

“With my father judging me, thinking that I can’t take care of myself– because I can– ”

“I know that,” he whispered. “But why can’t you just let me take care of you?”

Before she could answer, Dan pulled her into a soft kiss. Tensing against his chest, Lily was slow to wind her arms around his waist, but she finally held him close. Remembering their strolls down the quad, Lily always felt a slight thrill when other girls saw what was hers and yearned to just hold his hand, craved to know his kiss. If those girls could see and corner her now, no doubt they would blast her for being the world’s worst girlfriend. Maybe she was, and when he ended their kiss with a smile and a stroke of his fingers down the side of her face, Lily’s mind exploded with a wild idea, and she playfully danced her fingers down his neck.

“You want to come with?”

He looked like the ground had been kicked out from under him. “Oh! I… but you said–”

“I know,” she purred. “But it might be fun to have some company out on the open road. Think about it. You and me. Miles and miles to explore. It– ”

“You know… you know I can’t,” he stated plainly.

“But why not?” she asked, hearing the childish tone in her voice but not caring as soon as the words passed through her lips.

“I start work next week,” he said. “You know that these positions---”

“Oh please,” she said with a groan. “Like your daddy can’t hook you up with another firm in a few months’ time.”

Dan backed away from her and pressed his hands to his slim hips. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

A part of her wished that she could take it back, but it was far from a lie. Dan’s dad had every major financier from Reno to LA in the palm of his hand. So what if he had to disappoint one friend; there were always others. And while Dan was still a young man, he should need to… he should want to take a chance.

“I’m just saying---”

“My father expects me to be responsible,” he started. “To, you know, be a grown-up?”

Lily seethed as her fingers curled into a small fist. “So you’re saying that I’m not?” she said.

“I’m saying that your father is still going to let you walk out that door,” Dan said.

“Can you blame me?” Lily said. “You heard–”

“And he made a lot of sense!” Dan said, his voice growing louder. “You don’t even have a plan. Just going to wander around from day to day, anything could happen to you…”

So was he concerned? Was that where was this was coming from? Sighing, she started to take his hand again.

“And you just expect me to wait,” Dan said. “Well you know what? Maybe I’ll have my own little adventure while you do your hobo thing.”

It might have been an empty threat, but his words stabbed her to the core. If he really loved her, he would let her go and trust in her return. Or he would drop everything and come with her. But to threaten her? To try to make her jealous to make her stay? “Now who’s acting like a three-year-old?” Lily said. Dan didn’t buckle, and suddenly Lily couldn’t stand the sight of him. “You know what?” Lily started. “You do your thing, I’ll do mine. And we’ll see what happens when the summer’s over.”

Zipping up her bag, she stomped towards the top of the staircase. Would he follow her now, grab her arm and say that he didn’t really mean it, that he was simply terrified at the prospect of losing her? Lily paused for all of a second, but when she didn’t hear his footsteps, when she didn’t hear the sound of his voice, she started to descend and set her eyes on the front door.

“Lily! Wait!”

It was her mother. Not Dan. Corinne grabbed her arm and forced her daughter to face her.

“Mom, please–”

“No you please!” she said. “I’m still your mother, and you will listen to me.”

Here it was. A final lecture in a series of three. Lily struggled some as her mother dragged her towards the sitting room and sat her down on the sofa.

“You’re not changing my mind,” Lily started. “I–”

“You think I don’t know that?”

Lily never thought that her mother could never surprise her. Never a hair out of place, her nails always perfectly filed, Corinne was all about appearances. On her graduation day, Dan had to be in every picture so that Corinne could line her scrapbook with the storybook images of her future son-in-law. If anyone wanted her to get with it and stay, her mother fit the bill.

So why was she sounding as if she agreed?

“You were stubborn from the day you were born,” Corinne said. “Naturally you were late to the party, and I–”

“I know, Mom,” Lily said. “Labor for thirty-nine hours. You never thought that you would get through–”

“Did you suddenly have a baby?” Corinne said.

Backing down, Lily lowered her eyes and held her tongue.

“I didn’t think I would get through it,” Corinne continued. “And your father was furious with you even then. He wanted you on a schedule before you even saw the light of day, but believe me, his face brightened so when he finally saw you.”

Lily had heard that a million times, too. And sometimes, if she reached into the darkest corners of her memory, she thought that she recalled moments when her father looked at her with nothing but love and pride. In recent days, there was only frustration mingled with disgust. And now Dan had that same look. “I really have to–”

“I know, Lily,” she said. “And I’m not going to tell you that you can’t.”

Cocking her eyebrow, Lily managed a faint smirk. “Not going to lock me up and throw away the key?” she teased.

Laughing lightly, Corinne shook her head. “Now what would be the point of that?” Corinne pulled her daughter close.

Resting her nose to her neck, Lily inhaled her jasmine scent. If anything was going to make her stay, this might do it.

“So listen to me.” Holding her daughter at arm’s length, Corinne fixed her face in a stern mark, but her eyes still brimmed with tears as she spoke. “Go,” Corinne started. “See what you need to see. Maybe you’ll even find something sweet.”

Lily bit down on her lip. Torn between her desire to explore and the lure of her mother’s embrace, she felt the weight of everyone else’s judgment slip away.

“So you do get it,” Lily said.

“I do,” Corinne said. “I don’t like it, but I understand.” Helping her daughter to her feet, Corinne walked Lily to her car and patted her cheek. “But whatever you find out there, come back. Can you do that much?”

Lily promised with a hug, and she finally slipped behind the wheel. Backing down the driveway, she caught a glimpse of Dan peering down at her from her bedroom window. A small part of her wanted to wave, blow him a kiss, just something to show him that she still cared, but when he closed the drapes and turned his back, Lily hit the gas and took off. Maybe she would come back to him at the end of her journey, but, for this moment, she pushed him out of her mind and looked forward with a scared but excited heart.

Lily drove on the highway for a long while. Should she have said goodbye to Dan? Tried and failed to make her father understand one last time? As the asphalt continued to stretch ahead of her, she grew more and more confident in the wisdom of her decision. Her mother would calm her dad down, and Dan would set his nose to his work. They would be fine, and when Lily finally came back, at least one of them would seem glad to see her. She imagined pinching Dan’s cheek, telling him that her wanderlust was out of her system. That she still wanted to…

But would she?

Highways were far too familiar for this trip, and she turned off at the next exit. Passing through a small town of tinier houses and dusty dirt roads, Lily imagined what it might be like to live in a place like this. Endless yard sales and weathered faces watched as she passed by in her Lexus, and Lily smiled back at each and every set of eyes. Maybe life should be lived trying to make it from one day to the next and the next. At least that really was living. The thought sounded ungrateful as it reverberated in her mind, but she wanted to know what it was to scrape and struggle and just wonder what the next day might bring.

Deciding to put her theory to the test, she shifted her car again. The Lexus bumped and shook as she met the gravel of the desert floor, and as she slackened her pace, Lily marveled at the jagged mountains stretching towards the clear blue sky. Should she park and try to climb to the top? Truly see everything through a new set of eyes?

Lily nearly parked the car, but then she thought better of the impulsive plan. She wasn’t wearing the right shoes, she had none of the right equipment, and the last thing she needed was to take a tumble and end up injured in the vast, open desert. Driving on, she pondered the sand as it swept across her tires. A stranger like her raced over the grains and sent it spinning in other directions. Sometimes it landed right back where it had started; sometimes the wind grabbed hold and sent it somewhere new. And Lily longed for that. She wanted to get lost in the breeze and see what else was out there.

Open spaces kept spilling ahead of her, and she lowered her window. Taking a deep breath of sandy air, she untied her hair and let it fall across her neck. She wanted to keep driving forever. She had promised her mother that she would come back, and someday she would. But there was a whole wide world that was up for the taking, and Lily was ready to take hold of it with both hands and see–

“Shit! What the–”

She heard her tire gasp, and she struggled to keep the wheel in her hands. It spun wildly through her fingers, and Lily pushed down on the break in a desperate bid to keep from crashing. “No,” she muttered. “Not happening. Not on my first morning…”

As her car nearly crashed into a stray rock, Lily turned the Lexus away from the oncoming crash, and she came to a halt on a hard piece of desert soil. The brake finally obeyed the pulse of her foot, and her body bumped against the steering wheel. She was grateful that the airbag stayed intact, and as she turned the key in the ignition, she stepped out to survey the damage.

“Christ…” A definite flat. Out here. Alone. Popping the trunk, Lily saw the jack but no spare tire. “What the…?” And then she remembered the doughnut that Dan had helped her with when she hit a gas pump too hard and had to call for help. How could she have forgotten to replace it before her trip? She had planned everything so carefully…

She still had her phone, and as she entered her passcode, she prayed for a signal. Not to call Dan. Or her father. She’d rather die than give them the satisfaction, but she needed someone to get her out of this mess. With only one bar, she fished through her glove compartment and tried to contact Triple A. Tried four times. But every time the call nearly connected, it faded away under her hands, and she cursed quietly as she kicked her damaged car. “What the fuck?” she groaned. “Some kind of a sign or something?”

Just when she thought that the world was having a laugh at her expense, salvation appeared on the horizon. A Dodge Ram pickup truck glided closer, and Lily shielded her eyes with her hand as the driver stepped out onto the sand.

He was tall with slender legs and a broad chest. Staring at her through dark brown eyes above hollowed cheeks, the man gave her a friendly wave as he stepped closer. “Need some help?” he asked.

If he was offering, Lily was accepting. “Looks like,” she said. “I… I guess I hit a rough patch or something, and…” Gesturing towards her deflated tire, she shook her head with a weak laugh. “Well you can see for yourself.”

Kneeling down, the stranger examined her shredded tire with careful eyes. He pressed the broken rubber between his fingers and whistled lightly. “That I can,” he said.

As he smiled up at her, Lily felt a small buzz in the pit of her stomach. The stranger was dark, handsome in a messy sort of way, and she remembered one of the reasons that she had wanted to make this trip. As much as she thought she loved Dan, this man caused every hair on her body to stand on edge. The smell of grease and sweat wafted off of him in sweet waves, and she blushed when he wiped his palm on the back of his jeans before offering her a shake.

“I’m Rex,” he said.

Rex.

It was old-fashioned and modern in the space of a single breath, and she lightly touched his fingers as she smiled shyly. “That’s nice,” Lily said.

Rex tightened his grip, and Lily’s body did not resist as her dragged her closer to his side.

“And you are?” he asked.

Staring into his eyes, Lily stood tall and met his entire gaze. “Lily,” she whispered. “Just Lily.” She had no desire for surnames; they weren’t part of the plan. What she did want was for Rex to fix her car. She longed to see his muscles rippling from his chest to the curves of his back. Just to look at him was to know that he could get the job done. And when he succeeded, she wanted to show him just how grateful she–

“Just Lily is good enough for me,” Rex said. “Now, how about you make yourself comfortable.”

Loving the sound of his voice, Lily let him lead her towards a lonely rock, and he sat her down carefully.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

As expected, he stripped off his jacket and tried to repair the gash. And his arms were broad and smooth. If he got the job done, Lily vowed to repay him with a kiss. He deserved nothing less; he deserved more. And even when he turned back to her with a heavy sigh, she was still contemplating all the ways in which she could repay his attempted kindness.

“No go?” Lily asked.

Rex shook his head. “Just how fast were you driving?”

Not so fast. Not fast enough to cause this intentionally. But now that it had happened, she wasn’t about to just let it go. “Maybe I was just trying to catch your eye,” Lily said.

At that, Rex smiled, and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. “Lucky for me,” he said. “Not so lucky for you.”

Meeting his challenge, Lily stood with a smirk. “So you can’t fix it?” she said as she tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

“Not all the way out here,” Rex said. “Wasn’t expecting something like this.”

It felt like a compliment, and Lily’s smile intensified under his dark gaze. “So you weren’t expecting me?” she asked.

This was fun. Rex hung his head for all of a second, but just as quickly he was back in her eyes. “Not at all,” he said. “But I’m mighty glad to make your acquaintance.”

She liked the drawl his voice and the curl of his lips when he smiled at her again. Even if he couldn’t fix the tire, Rex could take her to new heights and make her forget everything that she had left behind.

“How about I give you a lift to the next town?” he suggested. “Promise I’m good company.”

Of that she was almost certain, and Lily offered him her hand. “Lead the way.”

Climbing into his truck, she felt the pulse of the road under her feet. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Rex’ gaze and trailing up and down her legs. Dan never looked at her like that, and if a stranger could do his to her with one glance, then she had to be on the right track.

“So what were you looking for?” Lily asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well you said that you weren’t expecting me,” she said. “So what do you want?”

Slapping her knee, he tossed his head back and flashed his teeth. “I could ask you the same question.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Lexus in the desert?” Rex said. “Have to be running away from something.”

She was about to tell him everything, but then she held back and shifted her gaze back away. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Lily said.

“I wouldn’t,” Rex said. “Not really.”

He was playing it cool and she could go along with that. And he was right. Better to go to wherever he was taking her and tell him later. She would wait until the right moment.

“But here you are,” Rex said. “And here I am.”

She nearly lost herself in his eyes, and she was on the verge of kissing him when he brought the truck to a fast stop. “What happened?” Lily asked. “What–?”

“How about you stop talking?” Rex’ tone shifted into something dark, and Lily couldn’t think or act quickly enough to stop the curl of fingers, his harsh hold, as he pulled her across the wheel and forced her out of the truck.

“Hey! What do you think you’re–?”

“I said stop talking!”

Lily held her tongue for all of a second, but when Rex wrenched her arm, she found her footing and kicked his shin hard. Rex buckled, and Lily knew enough to take her chance and break into a run. Kicking up sand with each step, she raced into the depths of the desert. Without her car, she knew sweat would pour from her veins if she could just keep running. Then there would be the horrible cold and she wished that she had been more careful.

“Get back here, you bitch!”

She never should have left home. Dan was right; her father was right.

“I said come back!”

Rex’ hands nearly seized her ankle and, as he fell forward, Lily brought her foot back. Kicking anything that she could find, she crushed her heel into what she thought was his neck and she kept running. He wouldn’t catch her; she would find her car and find some way to bring it back to that dusty town. Or she would find someone who really wanted to help her…

A large white van suddenly blocked her path, and Lily screamed as a masked man appeared with a bat in his hands. As soon as she saw the new stranger, Lily stifled a scream and took off in the other direction. In her sneakered feet, she felt the sand pouring into her socks and slicing into her heels. She had to move fast. If she missed a single step, they would overpower her and…

“Slow up, bitch!”

Lily felt the bat smashing into her ankles and she fell into the sand. Choking on the grains, she turned to her back. She saw the man ready to bring the bat down on her head and, as she struggled to catch her breath so she could release a scream, Rex stepped back into view and snatched the bat from the other man’s hands.

“Not the face, you fucker!” Rex screamed. “She’s no good to us if she’s all banged up.” Rex waved the bat threateningly, but the other guy just laughed and turned his eyes towards Lily’s aching, terrified body.

“Don’t know about that,” the man said. “Ain’t no god damned beauty pageant.

Lily cowered as Rex added his laughter to the mix, creating a horrible chorus that filled her heart with fear.

“Fair point,” he said darkly. “Nice face, though. You think the rest of her is just as sweet?”

“No doubt.”

Roughly grabbing her arm, Rex hauled Lily to her feet, and she struggled to maintain her footing as he pulled her close. She wanted nothing more than to form a fist and crush the jaw, the lips that had seemed so appealing.

“Let go of me!” Lily screamed.

She managed only a few steps when Rex drew a knife from his pocket as his buddy continued to wield the baseball bat. “Lose the clothes,” Rex ordered.

“What… why?” Lily asked even as she realized what they wanted.

“We don’t got all day, cunt,” Rex threatened. “And Isaac is right on. Let’s make sure you’re worth it before we go to all trouble.”

Blinking back tears of terror, Lily summoned the strength to shake her head. “What trouble?” she asked. “What is it that you–?”

Grabbing a hunk of her hair, Rex forced her into his eyes again, and she whimpered at the feel of his breath racing down her neck. “You do it quick,” Rex started, “or maybe we just ice you now and give the vultures a special treat.”

Lily swallowed hard at the thought of her body gutted and limp. Alone as she was, she wanted a chance to get through this and see another day. A part of her actually wanted to get back home if she ever got the chance.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Isaac said with a cold laugh.

Taking a small step back, her body went numb. As she closed her eyes, she pulled her shirt up over her head.

“Oh yeah,” Isaac said. “Nice.”

Lily’s face flushed with fear and fury as Isaac’s eyes settled on her breasts. She knew that if she kept going, his hands would be on her. Other parts of him would find their way inside her. But she couldn’t think about that now. She had to survive, and if that meant–

“Keep it up, cunt,” Rex said as pointed the knife in her face.

Reaching behind her back, Lily released her bra, and she hung her head when Isaac whistled his approval. Her first instinct was to shield her soft mounds with her bare hands, but she quickly thought better of it. Don’t make them angry. You’ll get through this. Somehow… Resigned to her fate for the moment, she kicked off her sneakers, and she let her jeans fall to her ankles. With only her panties for protection, she gritted her teeth and tugged the elastic band away from her quivering hips.

“I don’t know,” Isaac said as he stroked the hardness poking through his pants. “Bet she’ll still do alright even if her face is fucked up.”

Rex nodded in agreement and Lily suppressed the need to shield her head with her hands. She’d take the blow, the punch, even the blunt end of the bat. But she wouldn’t make a wrong move and give Rex an excuse to plunge the knife into her flesh.

“What do you say?” Isaac said. “Want to try her out before we hand her over?”

Rex stroked his own growing cock, and Lily trembled. Deprived of her clothes, her shoes, she knew she would never make it very far across the wide stretch of sand.

“I don’t know,” Rex said. “Maybe…”

Standing still, Lily felt Rex’ broad arm curl around her waist, and she whimpered slightly as his lips met her brow in a slimy kiss.

“Might even be fun to keep her,” Rex said. “See what she feels like.” He pushed his hands between her legs, and Lily shook as he probed her. “I’d love to get all up inside this,” Rex said with a smirk.

How had she let this happen? Hadn’t she been safe with Dan, yelling at her father, picking at waffles just hours ago? And now she was naked and trapped by two monsters. They were going to ravage her; every bone in her body wanted to fight them off. But she would submit if it meant avoiding the knife or worse.

“But this one is gonna fetch some price!” Rex screamed.

Isaac groaned his disappointment, but he wilted some under Rex’ gaze and scooped up her discarded clothing. Placing them in a pile, Isaac struck a match against the heel of his boot, and Lily whimpered as her clothes began to burn against the hot sand.

“Take a good look, bitch,” Rex said as he held her back close to his chest. Lily watched without speaking as her shirt, her bra, and her panties started to turn to ash. What would her parents… what would Dan think? Someone would find her car. They just had to. But there would be no trace of Lily. Was she doomed to become an unsolved mystery that would leave nothing but unanswered questions in the wake of her vanishing?

“Your new life starts now,” Rex hissed.

Before she could speak or think, Rex lifted her body off the ground and slung her over his shoulders. As they neared the back of the open van, Lily finally fought back and started to pound his back with her small fists. “No wait!” she screamed. “Don’t do this to me! Please let me---!”

Rex silenced her with a swift punch to the gut, and Lily collapsed in a heap on the van’s floor. In her dazed state, she felt metal bracelets curling and locking around her wrists, her ankles, and she could just make out the forms of Rex and Isaac as they plotted at the edge of the van.

“So you’ll follow?” Isaac asked.

“Don’t I always?”

“Think we’ll make it by dark?”

Rex stroked his chin and winked in the direction of Lily’s cowering form.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “And wait ‘til the boys see the belle of the ball!”

Lily tugged at her restraints as Rex crawled close to her side. “Please let me go!” Lily begged. “I won’t tell anyone! I swear I won’t! I–” Her voice was stifled by the feel of a burlap sack surrounding her head. Something leather was wrapped around her neck, and Lily panicked. She could barely breathe, and if she couldn’t see where they were taking her, she–

“Settle in, cunt,” Rex said. “Just a little road trip.”

He pushed her down, and Lily felt him leave her side as the van door crashed closed. The men’s voices became muffled, and when she felt sure that they were far enough away, she tried to remove the hood from her head. But her bound hands kept stopping just short of the strap around her neck. Lily kept trying, but when she found it a futile errand, she slammed her palms to the metal floor and screamed into the sack.

Where are they taking me? What’s going to happen to me?

The answer to her question came in the form of one of the sound of the van’s front door opening and closing. She heard a key turn in the ignition, and as the engine roared to life, her bound body banged against both sides of the van’s walls as the driver accelerated his speed.

“Comfortable, slut?”

It was Isaac. Rex had probably gone back for his truck. But she would see him again. And wish that she hadn’t.

“Why?” she moaned into the burlap.

Isaac laughed and drove faster.

“It’s our turn to bring someone to the dance,” Isaac said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Had our eyes on a little blonde waitress, but the Diesel Devils are gonna pay top dollar for you.”

Who were the Diesel Devils? What fresh hell was he leading her towards? Her father’s words suddenly echoed in her ears.

I need help now, Dad. Oh God…

The van paused, and she heard a door open and he sound of Rex’ unwelcome voice.

“Truck’s good,” he said. “Bitch’s car is a lost cause.”

So there wasn’t even that to point someone in the right direction.

“Let’s see how she’s holding up.”

Rex crawled to her side, and she sobbed as he examined every inch of her captive flesh. Despite her best efforts to turn her mind towards thoughts of escape, she felt like a piece of meat. Rex’ touch lingered over every contour and when his fingers settled around her cunt again, she froze. “Oh yeah,” Rex said. “They’re gonna pay top dollar for your sweaty muff.”

Leaving her with only her fears for company, Lily held her naked body close as the van kept moving, and she prayed that something would stop the torment on the long road ahead.

The van finally came to a stop, and Lily waited. She heard the van’s front door open and close, and, again, she was left alone.

I have to get out of this. This might be my only chance.

Scraping her nails against the van’s walls, Lily struggled to find a gap, a break, something in the latch that would bring her freedom. But the metal loop was securely fastened, and she had no choice but to thrash and pull, her desperate breath mingling with the burlap covering in her face.

Try as she might, she could not break free, and her soul sank. Still she kept tugging until she heard the back door open. Was it Rex? Isaac? Both of them?

Maybe it was one of the Diesel Devils, whoever they were, and Lily’s body stilled as the hood was finally, mercifully removed from her head.

“Here we are.”

It was Rex, and she wanted to strike him. He had pretended to be a dark knight in grizzled armor. And he was everything that her father and Dan had feared; her mother would have never let her leave if she knew that this was what lay in store.

“You fucking asshole…”

Rex smirked, and Lily shuddered when he pulled her close by her hair. Maybe he was minding her face, but he would bruise other parts of her. “Easy, slut,” he cautioned. “Remember, you flagged me down.”

Lily had set this whole thing in motion by running away, and as she was relieved at the loosening of her bonds, she was still a prisoner of fate as Rex marched her out of the van.

“This is gonna be awesome!” Isaac chimed in.

Both men gripped her arms, and Lily was pushed through an open steel door. It quickly slammed shut behind her, and Lily’s eyes struggled to adjust to the dark.

“Let’s put her in holding,” Rex said.

Lily’s bare feet pained her as they scraped against a rickety wooden staircase, and she whimpered with every step. Darker and deeper, she exhaled a small sigh of relief when the descent came to an end, and she basked in the feel of walking on flat ground. But any comfort left her as a horrible room came into view.

Oh my God… no…

The place was awash in bound and blindfolded girls, all of them shackled to the walls. Some cried and screamed at the sound of Rex and Isaac drawing nearer. Other seemed to sink deeper into the floor, resigned to their fate. Lily didn’t want to turn into that; she wanted to get out while she still knew what it was to be alive.

“No!” Lily screamed. “You’re not putting me here! I want–”

Ignoring her cries, Rex slammed her to the ground and chained her again. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a crimson bandana and tied it around her head. As soon as the light left her, Lily flailed and kicked. Rex stilled her with a pull to her nipple, and she retreated to the place where she could stay silent and simply hope to survive.

“Just shut up,” he said. “And don’t cry.” He pressed his hands under her chin. “Not a bad face,” he said. “But I’ll slash your cheeks if you fuck this up for me.”

Abandoning her, she started to pull at her blindfold when a soft hand met her arm.

“Don’t do it, kid.”

The voice that hit her ears was raspy, gnarled, and Lily twisted her head in the direction of the sound. “What is this place?” she begged.

“They sell us,” she started. “Trade us when they get bored. I know it seems bad at first.”

Lily’s soul erupted into a scream. “At first? No! I’m not supposed to be here. I want to go home. Why–?”

“Not happening, honey,” the invisible woman said. “Best you just let all of that go.”

She pressed her hands to her ears, not wanting to hear the truth of her new situation. If she wished hard enough, she was home and safe. If Dan could find her now, he would beg forgiveness for his harsh words and simply rejoice in her return. She wanted to go back, but as the room of girls wept all around her, that seemed like a dream that would never come to pass.

“You scared?” the woman asked.

Nodding, and then realizing that her new friend couldn’t see the fear in her eyes, Lily spoke up. “What are they going to do to us?” Lily asked.

“Sell us off,” she said. “Some masters are kinder than others. You best just hope for a sweet sir.”

Lily remembered all the nights, so many nights, when she had pleaded with Dan to break from their routine. She had wanted to be on her knees and feel his cock pressing into her from behind. One time, she had even asked for a blindfold. Kicking herself now, she pulled at her bonds, and she was only stilled by the feel of the woman’s hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t try to fight it,” she said. “No one ever gets out.”

Lily was not about to resign herself to this awful fate. But she had to keep her facts straight. A sweet sir? Maybe she could survive that. But… “Who are the Diesel Devils?” she asked in a shaking voice.

The woman started to back away, but Lily gripped her wrist and kept her close.

“What does it–?”

“One of the biker clubs around these parts,” she started. “You can’t walk after a night with Trevor.”

Lily cringed. She knew that Isaac and Rex intended to sell her to these men. Those men.

A horn blared, and she listened hard as one of the other girls was dragged from her side. In the near distance, she could hear quoted figures and bids for flesh. A strange voice called time at twenty-five thousand dollars, and the unknown girl’s scream dissipated as she was led into some untold hell.

“How do I get out of it?” Lily asked through her blindfold.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re for sale. Right?” Lily asked. Just saying it nearly made her vomit, but she had to take this one step at a time. She was blindfolded, bound, but there had to be a way---

“You don’t,” the woman said. “Get used to it.”

But Lily couldn’t, and as soon as she felt her body unhooked from the wall, she struggled and kicked.

And a hard hand slapped her face. “Maybe a little mark will get the boys hot.”

At least Rex spared her the end of the bat. Hauling her up by her dragging feet, Lily kept thinking that there had to be a way to escape this with some of her dignity intact, and out desperation, she curled her body to Rex’s. “Don’t send me out there,” she pleaded. Ripping her blindfold away, Lily’s eyes blinked fast to adjust to the dim light. Focusing on Rex’ cold eyes, she made her stand. “I’ll… I’ll stay with you,” she said.

Rex’ eyebrow drew close to his hairline, and his fingers kneaded her arm. “Will you really?” he asked.

The thought of giving herself to him tied a knot around Lily’s stomach. No doubt he would be brutal, but after only a few short hours he was suddenly the devil that she knew. Lily would take that over the devil that might rub her raw and cripple her.

“I… I will,” Lily whispered. Holding her breath, Lily hoped that she could turn him back to her side. Let him take me. If it’s just him, I’ll find a way out. I’ll---

“You’re cute, cunt,” he said. “But you’ll do more for me out on the block.”

Pulling her wrist, Rex dragged her up another set of stairs, and Lily finally found herself center stage in an open space. Peering into the crowd, she shuddered at the catcalls and cruel whistles that washed over her body, and when she tried to cover herself again, the auctioneer, a slim man with a thinner mustache, snapped her fingers. Lily felt a million eyes passing over her bare body, and she wondered which one would claim her. She could only hope that she…

“Here we go, boys! Meat so fresh that your mouths water just looking at her!”

The mustached man whooped the crowd into a frenzy, and Lily tried to cover her body as she stood under the harsh lights. “Now cut that shit out!” The auctioneer stamped his feet and snapped his fingers.

Lily turned her head to the slimy man, and when he growled in her direction, she knew that she had no choice but to lower her arms and allow her bare body to be exposed to a mass of unseeing eyes.

“Now that’s better,” the auctioneer stated with a sneer.

The room calmed, and she felt the sweat pouring off of her body in waves as the crowd’s mutters debated how much she was worth. Lily could hear a slew of figures hitting her ears; if she wasn’t sure before, now there was no question about it. She was lost, captured, and totally alone. Her only hope was that the top bidder would show her some mercy.

“I want her!” a hidden voice screamed. “20K!”

A balding man with a barrel chest and rotting teeth stepped into the light, and as soon as he licked his lips, Lily started to feel her hopes fade slip away. Don’t let it be… please don’t…

“As expected,” the auctioneer started, “Diesel Devil Trevor Carr leads the muff charge.”

Oh my god…

If the other shackled woman was to be believed, this was the worst fate imaginable. As she looked into Trevor’s cold eyes, Lily started to sink into despair when another voice hit the air.

“25K.”

“Oh, we have a contest now!”

Tuning out the sound of the auctioneer’s voice, Lily narrowed her eyes as a lean, shadowy figure stepped into view, and in spite of her naked, vulnerable state, Lily knew what it was to hope again.

“What the fuck, Michael?” Trevor seized the other man by his collar and tried to wrestle him back into the shadows. But Michael, if that was his name, was not budging an inch, and Lily’s eyes locked on his.

He was tall and, even through his leather jacket, Lily detected the muscles making up the better part of his frame. His face was long and sculpted, and, even in the dim light of the crowd, his blue pools sparkled as he focused on her. Maybe he was the good man in a throng of villains. He would outbid Trevor and set her on the back on the road out of this nightmare.

Help me. Please…

“Where the fuck you get 25K for this cunt?” Trevor challenged.

Michael turned to Trevor and gritted his teeth. “Maybe I don’t waste my time on every slit on the block.”

The other men cheered and smacked their hands together. Yes. This man was discerning. Different.

Let him buy me. Let him save me. Let him…

“30K,” Trevor challenged.

Lily shuddered, but her fears were swiftly allayed when Michael rose to the challenge.

“35,” Michael challenged.

The room grew darker, and out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Rex salivating over the prospect of a supreme payday. Hate filled her heart, but Lily held her tongue. Let him get his payday, and let Michael win. He would help her. He would…

“40!” Trevor bellowed.

Looking away from Rex, Lily trembled when she saw Michael pull back. Was he giving up just like that? Lily was on the verge of screaming for him to make a higher bid when Michael made his play. “45 and that’s fucking final!”

Instead of charging forward and taking her into his arms, Michael grabbed Trevor by his throat and pushed him back into the shadows. Sinking to her naked knees, Lily craned her neck forward and gasped.

“Fucking final!”

Before Trevor could get a word in edgewise, Michael formed a fist. He was about to land the fatal blow when Trevor bobbed and weaved. “Fucking ass!” Trevor lowered his head and drove it into Michael’s middle. He went flying, and when he stumbled to the ground, Lily couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe as Trevor fell on top of him with a snarl. “Don’t you challenge me!” Trevor said. “If I want her, I get her.”

Trevor leered in her direction, and Lily could no longer see any way out. Michael felt like her last chance, but Rex encouraged Trevor to take his pound of flesh and run with it. “Go for 50!” Rex yelled. “Want a big payday for this one.”

Trevor nodded, and when he pounded his fist into Michael’s face and found his way back to his feet, Lily felt her body hauled back to the light. Trevor crept close to the edge of the stage, and his hands started to run up her leg. With a wicked grin, Trevor dragged his hands up towards her pussy, and Lily whimpered as his hand grazed her cunt.

“Going once,” the auctioneer started. “Going twice…”

Lily closed her eyes and wished that she could disappear and die before the final call. She still wanted to kick and run, but there were too many men to contend with, and she wouldn’t make it very far…

“Maybe I want her more!”

Lifting her lids, Lily saw Michael back on his feet, and she hoped again when Michael grabbed Trevor and pulled him away from Lily’s side.

“So keep your fucking hands off!”

Michael crushed Trevor into the ground, and he fell on top of him. Removing his jacket, Lily saw the rage rippling down his back, and every vein in his arms pulsed as he started to beat Trevor’s face to pulp.

“60 fucking K!” he screamed.

He was going to save her, after all, but suddenly Lily feared that even he wasn’t the best option. Someone this rough would never be kind with her, would only turn his fists on her if given the chance…

Lily tried to flee from the stage when Rex caught hold of her waist and glowered. “Don’t you run off now,” Rex threatened. “You’re about to bring me a huge chunk of change.”

Without thinking, Lily started to slap Rex’ face and her body thrashed against his as he gripped her arms.

“Let me go!” Lily screamed. “You can’t do this to me! You–”

“Damn fucking straight!”

Lily was stunned when a pair of strong hands pulled her away from Rex. Whipping her head over her shoulder, she saw nothing but Michael, and before she could protest, he pushed her behind his back.

“Stay still,” Michael hissed.

Listening even as she no longer trusted him, Lily hung back and waited, desperate to cover her body with her arms, as Michael reached into his pocket and tossed a pile of bills in Rex’ face.

“Your services are no longer needed,” Michael said.

Rex crouched down to collect the bills, and as he counted out the amount, a frown crossed his face.

“This is it?” Rex asked. “Come fucking on, man. Trevor would give me–”

“It ain’t Trevor’s show anymore,” Michael said.

“But I brought you new meat!” Rex whined. “And I should–”

“You should take your fucking finder’s fee and get the hell out!”

As Lily cowered behind Michael’s back, she saw the man that had seemed liked her savior fall to the ground and pocket the stray bills. Crawling back to Isaac’s side, the men argued, but Rex ordered his friend to let it lie, that they would find a better way to a larger pay day. A small piece of Lily’s soul smiled as her abductors slunk away, but that feeling swiftly subsided when the mustached auctioneer pulled her arm over her head and paraded her before the crowd, their collective voices rising to attention yet again.

“So it’s a surprise winner!” the auctioneer cried. “Mr. Michael Roberson!”

The crowd cheered, and when she looked back at Michael he sniffed towards his feet. Lily had no way of knowing what he would do with her if given the chance, and before she could demand an answer, her body was pulled away from the stage.

“Now sit and wait like a good little girl.”

The auctioneer smirked, and strange hands enveloped Lily’s shaking arms. As she was led down the staircase, she saw the rows of bound girls, and she struggled as a new cloth met her eyes.

“Don’t!” Lily screamed. “You can’t–”

Her cries were silenced by a swift punch to the gut. The shackles returned to her wrists, and Lily moaned as her body hit the wall. Holding her hooded head in her hands, Lily fought to suppress the tears darting out of her eyes, and she started when a soft hand met her back.

“Hang in there, honey. The worst is over.”

But even at the sound of the strange woman’s voice, Lily wasn’t sure of anything, and she blindly gripped her arm and managed to press her lips to the friendly ear.

“I… I don’t know,” Lily started.

“Honey, Trevor’ll get bored,” she said. “And you’ll get used to the block. You’ll–”

“No!” Lily screamed. “You don’t–”

“Kid, this is your life now,” the woman said. “Best to get used to it.”

She could never do that. Lily would never accept her fate as a slave and simply languish to the point where she was fit for nothing but to give advice to new girls as they were lured into the web. But at this moment, she couldn’t dread the months, the years that might mean this life and nothing else. There was only one name on her mind, and she pulled the woman in for a whisper. “Tell me about Michael Roberson,” she begged.

Lily felt the woman start to back away, but Lily held her close and repeated her question.

“Michael Roberson bought you?” she asked.

Muttering yes, Lily held her breath and waited for an answer. When the woman stayed silent, Lily’s heart froze, and she pressed her fingers into the woman’s hand and weakly pleaded for something, anything, that might put her mind at ease.

“Man’s a mystery,” the woman said.

Those words did nothing to put Lily’s mind at ease, but she kept her hand on the woman’s arm and asked for more.

“Nothing much to tell,” she said. “He’s a Diesel Devil, but he’s out of the mix. He keeps to himself, and he’s never come to the dance.”

But tonight was different. Michael had leapt into action and pounded his fists into another man to win her. But to what end? Someone that could be so rough had to have a reason to take his first step, and Lily wanted him to be her hero. But what if he sensed her raw terror as soon as he saw her? Maybe he wanted her under his power so that he could torment her in new ways, and with no road map to follow, Lily quivered.

“Don’t be scared,” the hidden woman cooed as she held her. “What I don’t know can’t hurt you. It–”

At that moment, Lily heard a door swing open, and she lost the woman and any hope of comfort as her body was dragged away from the room of chains.

Her feet banged against the floor, and Lily didn’t have a chance to catch her breath. Having to take the steps two at a time, she knew that she was back close to the crowd. She cringed at the sounds of hoots and hollers, and she moaned when her body was flung to a mattress, and she heard the sound of a door locking behind her.

It took her a few seconds to calm, but as soon as she felt secure in her forced solitude, Lily lifted her hands to her eyes, and she stripped the blindfold away. Blinking hard against the harsh light, she twisted at the ropes around her wrists and peered up in terror mixed with untold anticipation.

“Glad we get some alone time,” he said.

Michael Roberson. The man that had purchased her for God knew what. No. No she knew what; Lily just didn’t want to think about it, and she trembled in her nakedness as his eyes lingered on her bare breasts.

“You look good,” he said. “Especially up close.”

Michael’s groan matched the slight pulse in his pants, and Lily bowed her head, the long brown strands of her hair hiding her flushed face. She wanted to be anywhere else but here. Or at least be invisible. If he couldn’t see her, didn’t see her, maybe he would look elsewhere and give her the chance to escape. It wouldn’t be easy; naked and with a room of bikers, every cock hard, waiting just above. She could still hear their screams as the next girl found her way onto the block. But she couldn’t worry about some stranger’s fate.

Lily had to find a way out of her own mess.

“Hey?” Michael said. “Don’t turn away from me.”

She bristled when his fingers pressed under her chin, and Lily suddenly had no choice but to stare right into his eyes. Blue. Steel blue. Cold blue. His face was a collection of sharp lines, and if he had gotten close to her by any other means, she would have thought him handsome. No. No he was handsome. But his hard hands, his flowing cash was only in a place like this because he wanted a… a…

“What do you want to say to me?” Michael asked. “Who do you want me to be?”

The fact that he could somehow read her thoughts intrigued and terrified her in equal measures. Lily swallowed hard and lifted her arm to conceal her breasts. “Not what you are,” Lily choked out. “Not this.”

“Well there’s no magic,” he whispered slowly as he pushed Lily’s arm from her breasts. Reluctantly, she let her arm fall away, and even as she shivered, she held her breath as he grazed his fingers against, around her hard nipples, and he sighed, the stench of tobacco and whiskey wafting off his breath.

“So let’s get a few things straight,” he said.

Lily forced her body to still as she peered into his eyes, glared into his stare.

“You won’t hide anything from me,” he started. “Ever.”

Longing to crack her palm into his smug, certain face, she held back and bowed her head in a weak nod.

“So you follow?” Michael asked.

“Yes… sir.” She had to be careful about this. Play along until she found a real chance to get away. Because it wasn’t right now, and she nodded again as she lowered her voice. “You… you can look at me,” she murmured.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Lily saw Michael smirk, and she fought the urge to lash out and run as he pressed one of her nipples between her fingers.

“I’m gonna do a lot more than look.”

Of that she had no doubt. She pictured her body bound and ravaged and destroyed to the point where no one would ever recognize her. But as she fixed her eyes on his, her mind turned back to a suddenly familiar thought.

Under any other circumstances…

“Stand up,” Michael ordered.

Hesitating for all of a second, Lily watched him stress to his full height, and she obeyed his orders, her shaking arms hanging at her sides as his eyes washed over her.

“Really nice,” Michael said as he circled around her, and Lily clenched her fists and her cunt when he stopped behind her. She felt his eyes lingering on her ass, and Lily nearly turned back, intending to ask him exactly what he wanted when he suddenly pulled her close to his chest and moaned into her fallen hair.

“Last place you expected to be tonight?” he asked. Michael pressed his fingers deeper into her torso, and she could not suppress a moan as he ran his hands up and down her leg, his fingers stopping at her knee. “But here you are,” he continued. “And I won.”

Even as Lily knew what that meant, what it had to entail, she whipped her head over her shoulder, and she peered at him carefully. “And now… now you’re going to do with me what you will?” she asked.

Michael’s face was like slate as his lips set into a cold frown. “That’s about the long and short or it.”

Lily felt as if her fate was all but sealed as he pulled her closer. Instinct caused her to squirm under his arms, but as soon as she started to thrash, Michael strengthened his hold, and he pressed his lips to her waiting ear. “Mine now,” he whispered. “My girl. And I want to…”

Michael’s fingers grazed against her bare pussy, and Lily writhed. Then she stopped, paused. Her captor’s stroke teased her quivering flesh to a place where she was ready to forget exactly how he had come to have her alone, naked, in this dark dank room. Needing to hold onto that, Lily separated her body from her mind and focused on the sensation alone. Michael’s fingers were as soft as they were sure. He carefully caressed each slippery fold, and when he pushed into her tense hole, his digit slid deeper with little effort. Should she kick herself for the fact that she had granted him such a quick, easy entry? Lily couldn’t think about that right now; she could do nothing but feel him pushing deeper, and she couldn’t help but wonder what a cock, what his cock would feel like if it entered the same–

“And I want to do everything to you,” he moaned. “I want to play with you.”

Something in that word, play , set her skin on edge, and she turned back to him, her eyes wild and raging. “I’m not a toy,” she started. “Not your toy.”

Michael frowned, but Lily didn’t care if he was sad. She was sad, scared, and terrified. And even if his face was sweet as the moonlight passed through the narrow windows, she was not about to let him off the hook. Maybe he hadn’t brought her here in the first place. Maybe he had saved her from Trevor Carr. But Michael still…

“I’m not a nameless face,” she started.

Keeping her close, Michael’s frown shifted into a small smile. “Not what I want,” he said. “Don’t know your name yet. But–”

“And you never will!” she screamed. Her mind flashed back to Dan and her parents. Her mother especially. In the end, they had parted, and Corinne would throw up every warning sign in search of her only child. “People… my people will come looking for me,” she said, as she stood taller.

“And what do you really think that they’ll find?” he challenged.

“I–“

“To hear Rex tell it, your car is gone. You’re like a bit of dust in the wind.”

Letting that thought sink in, Lily flew into a rage. She slammed her desperate fists into his broad chest and tried to break free.

“What do you think you’re–?”

“Let me go!” Lily screamed. “You don’t know what you’re–”

“I think I do,” Michael said. “And you need to chill!”

Lily kicked and punched until Michael forced all of his body into hers, and he pushed her down to the mattress.

“No!”

Falling with a heavy thud, Lily felt his body lying firm on top of hers. Michael absorbed her reign of blows for several seconds, but then he grabbed her wrists and held them tight over her head.

“I’m not letting you go,” he said. “So you better… shit!”

Crushing her foot into his side, Lily heard his cry of pain, and she scrambled madly, trying to reach the door.

“Come back here!”

Michael grabbed her ankles, and he dragged her back to his chest, lifting her twisting face from the ground until she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“I paid good money for you, and–”

“I am not your property!” Kicking at his legs, Lily landed one strong blow, and when he fell away, she broke into a fresh run. Finding the door unlocked, she saw the balding form of the man that she had come to know as Trevor Carr sauntering down the steps, and as soon as he saw her naked, trembling body, he leaned in closer as he licked his lips.

“So you’re coming back for the real prize,” he said.

It wasn’t a question; it was a definitive decision, and as Lily tried to turn back, Trevor grabbed her trembling arms and pulled her close.

“I like your neck,” he drawled. “Let’s have taste.”

Pushing her hair from her flushed face, Trevor moaned into her cheeks, and he pressed his hands between her quivering legs. “Feels good,” Trevor said. “Let’s explore.” He pushed inside her, and Lily groaned when his finger invaded her flesh.

“No!”

He was almost inside her, his rough hands piercing her tender skin, and as Lily struggled to break free from his hold, Michael shambled forward from the other side of the room.

“Help–“

Lily suddenly held her tongue and focused on his eyes. Michael’s dark stare filled her with a small shred of hope, but Michael seemed to look right past her, even as she was trapped in Trevor’s harsh arms.

“Get off!” Michael said.

“Why?” Trevor challenged.

Michael grunted through clenched teeth, and he steadied his gaze on her for all of a second before he looked back to Trevor. “Because she’s mine.”

She wasn’t his. She wasn’t any man’s woman. Leaving home was all about finding herself, and she was not about to find herself trapped all over again.

“I don’t know, boy,” Trevor starred. “Bitch looked like she was running mighty fast.”

Michael seemed on the verge of exploding through his skin, and a small part of Lily wanted to break free of Trevor’s hold and run back to Michael’s side. But she couldn’t trust him either. He had paid for this. Maybe he looked good, but he would hurt her if given the chance.

“I won’t stay here!” she screamed.

Kicking Trevor’s shin, she sighed as she felt her body breaking free, and she scampered up the steps. Lily crawled her way back to the main room with no idea of what she would do once she made it to the top. Rex, Isaac, the auctioneer. Too many men to count would stop her, hold her down, but she still had to try.

“And now we have a tiny honey-haired child for your pleasure!”

Lily managed to hide behind an abandoned table, and she peered through the legs of the chairs as she saw a young girl with golden brown hair being led to the center ring. Her hands were bound, and he mouth was gagged as the auctioneer started to whip the crowd into a fresh frenzy.

“And here’s a bonus, gents! Look! Shaved and DTF if a cunt ever was!”

The auctioneer pressed her thighs apart. Lily couldn’t see her unblemished flesh, but her tears were more than enough. Maybe Lily could hold her own until this moment, the promise of escape, but the other girl could do nothing but hide her face in her hands and sob. Where had she come from? Where was she supposed to be? To see her cry, Lily knew that she just couldn’t leave her to this horrible fate, and her eyes scanned the room, the floor, for some kind of a weapon. Spying a jagged piece of wood, she seized it quickly and started to pounce when a burly arm surrounding her waist as a hard hand was pressed to her gasping mouth.

“Are you fucking insane?”

She knew it was Michael’s voice, and she fought to free herself from his hold.

“Get back down here!” he hissed.

Dragging her sweating, bare body away from the crowd, Lily’s ankles banged against each step, and she tried to part her lips, thinking only of biting down on his fingers, not caring if blood burst from his skin. But his grip was too tight, and she reluctantly went limp as he descended the final step and tossed her to the floor.

“You paid for this?” Trevor challenged.

“None of your concern, Trevor,” Michael said. “Now how about you just get the fuck–?”

“Give it up, man!” Trevor said. “Hellcats are my type. You’d be better off with that little slit on the block–”

Balling his hand to a fist, Michael punched Trevor’s gut hard. The bald man doubled back, and Michael grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “I paid for this one,” Michael started, his voice thick, “and this is the one I want.”

Pushing her rumpled hair aside, Lily looked up and saw Michael’s tense back and Trevor’s cold glare. He licked his lips when their eyes met.

“Whatever,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll get a taste of her soon enough.”

“Not on my watch, fucker!”

Michael shoved him to the foot of the stairs, and Trevor laughed as he made his way back to the auction. As soon as they were alone again, Michael turned to her with a heavy sigh. His eyes were cold, and his lips were fixed in a tight frown. “Now no more tricks,” he cautioned. “You got that?”

Lily nodded slowly, but even as she seemed to submit, her mind was racing towards the next chance of escape. Vowing to be smarter when any opportunity presented itself again, she resigned herself to Michael Roberson’s company for the duration of this long night. At least he wasn’t Trevor Carr. That was something.

“Better,” Michael said. “We’re heading out soon.”

She watched without blinking as he crouched in the opposing corner. Stretching to his full height again, he tossed a burlap bag in her direction, and Lily caught the parcel before it hit her lap. “Not bad,” he said with a tinge of admiration in his voice.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

They stayed locked in that moment, and she thought that she saw his eyes soften as his gaze lingered over her quivering arms. Just as quickly, his face hardened again, and he pointed towards the burlap sack. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “We got a long ride ahead of us.”

Excited at the promise of clothes, Lily picked through the bag hungrily. But as soon as she clearly saw the contents, Lily pushed the parcel away in disgust and glared at Michael.

“Problem?” he asked.

“I am not wearing those,” she said as she hid her breasts behind her hands.

“What? Not good enough for you?”

“It’s a whore’s costume, and I am no man’s whore. Least of all yours.”

“Never said you were a whore,” Michael said. “Just trying to keep my property safe.”

Lily tossed her head back in a mirthless laugh. “Sure your boys will be real respectful if I put these on?”

Michael shot to her side, and she flinched under his touch as he cupped her face in his hand. Staying in his eyes, Lily felt his hot breath pouring down her chest, and she couldn’t ignore the tingle crossing her spine when his warm stream settled in the space between her breasts. “They will keep their hands off of what’s mine,” he started.

“Like your buddy who just–”

“He’s no friend of mine, and neither is any other man who thinks that he can put his hands on you.”

Swallowing hard and fast, Lily wanted to believe him. His intentions seemed plain by virtue of his very presence at such a horrible show. But the thought that she’d only have to deal with him was better than the idea of being tied into an X so that they could take turns until she prayed for freedom by way of death.

“I…I can’t put these on,” she whispered. “Please…please give me something else.”

Standing tall, he stomped his booted foot to the concrete floor and snorted in derision. “This is all I got,” he said. “Get dressed or go naked on the back of my bike. Your choice.”

How fucking generous of him.

Left with no other alternative, Lily quickly covered her legs with a pair of tight leather pants, and she slipped a slinky red tank top over her breasts. No bra. No panties. No doubt he wanted easy access as soon as they got where they were going. Stepping into the high-heeled boots, she stood slowly, her face burning as he circled around her, taking in the view.

“Fits like a fucking glove,” he purred. “I like the way you look right now.” Michael pressed his palm to her side, and Lily started to flinch. “No,” he said. “No don’t move.”

Settling under his touch, she felt his fingers lift the shirt, and as they pushed into her skin, she wanted to scream, to lodge the heel of her new, unwanted footwear into his groin. But despite her predicament, there was something sensuous in his stroke, and Lily leaned into the feel of his hand as she lifted her eyes to his. “How can you do this?” she whispered. “How can you think it’s right?”

“It’s what I know,” he said. “But I’ll give you the back of my bike. You just hold on tight, and I’ll get you there in one pretty piece.”

Michael’s hand left her side, and he gripped her wrist. His hold was not rough but firm, and he hauled her up the steps. As soon as they hit the light again, the auction was still blazing in full force. Trevor Carr had the weeping girl that Lily had longed to save under his arm, and she was given nothing but a G-string and some flip-flops for her journey. The girl screamed at the top of her lungs, and Trevor shoved a bandana in her mouth to keep her quiet.

“What?” he said as he saw Michael with Lily at her side. “Like you won’t want to mix it up at some point.”

Michael shrugged the other man off and walked Lily into the desert night.

She saw a row of bikes, and she could see, she could smell, the cigarette smoked laced with traces of pot wafting into the starry sky. Under any other circumstances, the scene might be beautiful, but now it meant danger. Degradation. And she nearly gave into despair when Michael’s hands surrounded her waist.

Lifting her up, he settled her on the back of his chopper and mounted in the same fluid moment. “Hang on,” he said softly. “I won’t let you fall.”

With no other choice, Lily clasped him as close as she dared, and she closed her eyes as the bike came to life under their connected bodies.

The ride felt like a million miles. At least Michael hadn’t lied to her about that.

Taking the lead, Michael sped in front of his crew and, as the bike accelerated, Lily had no choice but to cling to him closer. Every time she tried to focus on the dark horizon passing them by, her head spun at the vastness of the landscape. Fearing that she might get sick at the sight, she was left with no other choice but to bury her head in the leather coating his back. Pushing her brow harder, deeper, she thought she heard him moan in something that sounded like discomfort.

“Am I… am I hurting you?” she asked.

Michael either didn’t hear or didn’t care, and Lily shook off the possibility of his pain and focused on her own need to feel some security in this strange, sudden world. She dug her fingers into the creases of his jacket and tuned out his stifled moans as they rode on.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Trevor Carr riding with his prize. In addition to the makeshift gag, her hands were bound with a crude length of rope, and her breasts trembled as she whipped her head wildly in every direction, her muffled screams begging for help. Trevor answered her pleas for mercy with another burst of speed, and the bound girl desperately clung to his belt buckle to keep from falling into the sand. But Trevor’s speed was too much for her tiny hands, and as Lily watched her fall to the road, a scream passed through her lips.

“She’s down!” Lily cried. “Someone has to help her!”

Michael followed her gaze, and when he saw the crumped girl about to be run over, he hit the brake. Lily clutched his neck to keep from meeting the same fate, and he jumped off his chopper at the same moment that Trevor came to a stop and the rest of the crew finally slowed.

Daring to step off his bike, Lily thought again of trying to make a run for it in her ridiculously high heels, but she quickly thought better of it, knowing that she wouldn’t get very far.

And she wanted to be sure that–

“Stupid slut!” Trevor charged towards his fallen prize, and his hands were rough as he brought her bound and gagged form to his eyes. “What?” he spat. “Don’t want to ride with me? What do I smell bad or something?”

The girl whimpered through her gag, and Trevor backhanded her, sending her body back to the asphalt. He kicked her side and curled his hand into a fist. But before he could land the blow, Michael wrestled him back and shoved him into his bike.

“What the fuck his wrong with you?” Michael demanded. “You want her dead before we even get back home?”

The girl cowered into the ground, and Trevor flashed a mouthful of bad teeth as he leered at her shaking form. “You want that, slut?” he asked. “You want to die out here in the desert?”

The girl frantically shook her head, and Trevor got a strange look in her eye as he pulled her up by the ropes surrounding her small wrists. “No?” he asked. “Let’s put that to the test.”

Lily watched in horror as he un-looped one strand of rope.

“What are you–?”

“It ain’t so far now,” Trevor said. “Let’s give this cunt a workout before I work her over.”

Binding her to the back of his bike, he spat in her hair and started to mount. Urging the bike to attention, he moved forward a few spaces, and the weak girl stumbled to the ground in the same second that he pushed forward. Hearing her muffled cries and the fall of her body, Lily forgot her own safety, and she ran like a sprint star in her heels, gathering the girl into her arms.

“Don’t do this to her!” Lily screamed. “Don’t–”

Trevor pushed forward, and Lily clung to the desperate blonde as they were pulled as one through the night. They had barely moved an inch when Michael raced past them. Seizing hold of the handlebars, he wrestled the Trevor’s bike from his grasp, and Lily saw his boots dragging through the sand as he tried to bring the madman and his chopper to a stop with the sheer force of his strength. Lily’s knees hit the road, and she felt the leather tear as the road’s surface skinned her knees. But she kept her hold on the girl, and she looked up to see Michael fighting to stop Trevor from his mission of mayhem.

“Trevor! Enough, you prick!”

Trevor kept barreling forward, and when Michael fell to the side of the road, Lily looked back to his twisting form. Suddenly the thought of him injured tugged at her heart, but Trevor started to pick up speed, and she could do nothing but hold onto the girl as another bike raced past them and screeched to a swift stop as it barred Trevor’s way from further destruction.

“You are done!”

Pausing, his motor still purring, Trevor hung his head as a slim figure with gray hair dismounted and stepped closer to his side. He regarded Trevor for all of a second before he slapped his face hard with the back of his hand.

“What the–?’

“Act like a little bitch, and that’s what you fucking get.”

Nursing his injured pride, Trevor hung back as the other guy stepped closer to Lily and the girl. He looked to Lily for all of a second before plucking a knife from his boot. She shuddered at the sight of it, but the man leaned down and quickly cut the weeping girl loose.

“Hey that’s my prize!” Trevor said. “What? Just because you’re in charge, you think–?”

“I know, Trevor. Now stand the fuck down.”

“But what about my–?”

“Here, you twat!” The gray-haired man flung a stack of bills in Trevor’s face, but he grinded his heel into the toe of Trevor’s boot before he could make any move to run. “I won’t see you waste a good piece just of ass just because you want a chance at the other one,” he said. “Michael outbid you fair and square, and if you won’t take proper care of your purchase, then I sure the fuck will.”

“Really, old man?” Trevor challenged. “You gonna do all that?”

“You best believe, fucking shit.”

Trevor’s eyes lingered on the crying girl, and then he turned his gaze back to Lily. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, and as she turned her head, a feeling of total relief washed over her as Michael stumbled back to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Take a hike,” Michael said. “Or a shit. I don’t fucking care.”

Leaving Lily on the ground, he got right up in Trevor’s face, spitting through his gritted teeth as he glared into the bald man’s eyes.

“But you don’t touch my girl. And it looks like old Ken bought yours right out from under you.”

No one moved; they barely breathed. Lily could sense that Trevor was ready for another fight, but when the rest of the gang surrounded him where he stood, he simply pocketed Ken’s bills and stepped back to his bike. Before he turned his head, he focused on the other girl with a wink. “Whatever. Not the one I really wanted anyway, but you best keep an eye out for me, Michael.”

He glared at Trevor as he mounted his chopper. “Like you’ll know what to do with her.”

Lily relaxed some as Trevor sped off, and she pressed the crying girl close until Ken stepped closer and offered his hand. “Come on now,” he said quietly.

Pulling her from Lily’s grasp, he stood the girl up straight and lowered her gag. She sputtered and sobbed, and Ken removed his jacket. Draping the leather around her shoulders, he asked her for her name.

“I’m… I’m Sally,” she finally said.

Ken’s face softened, and he pushed her under his shoulder as he shifted his focus to Michael. “Let’s head back to camp,” Ken said. “And no more surprises. You got that?”

Michael nodded as Ken led Sally away. Lily started to call after her when Michael pulled her up and waved his finger in her face.

“Come on,” he ordered. “We have to keep moving.”

“Why?” Lily asked. “You gonna tie me up for a wild ride if I say no?”

His silence made her uneasy, but he grabbed her hand and gave her skin a quick tug. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

Scared as she still was, Lily knew that he was putting her on and when she looked back and saw Sally settled on the back of Ken’s chopper, she followed him to the back of his without resisting.

“Just hold on,” he said as he swung his limbs against the handlebars. “We’re almost there.”

And suddenly Lily had no idea if that was something she desired or something she should fear and risk the chance of rope burns and the feel of her body being pulled through the desert.

They arrived.

Camp, home, whatever they wanted to call it, was little more than a series of shacks and tents concealed by tall craggy mountains. Lily had no idea how far she had travelled from her breakdown to this point, but the way back seemed too long to even consider at such a late hour, and as Michael pulled her body from his bike, she felt exhaustion creeping though her veins.

“What’s that about?” Michael asked.

Without wanting to, her head fell to his shoulder, and his arms surrounded her shoulders as he started to lead her away from the rest of the group. Like her, Sally seemed numb as Ken managed to lift her into his arms, and he carried her towards a shack far larger than the others. Despite his gray hair and the deceptive lines crisscrossing his face, Lily feared for the girl that had nearly been dragged to her death, and she struggled against Michael as he hauled her off in the opposite direction.

“You’re coming with me now,” he said. “No more fucking distractions.”

Lily could almost do with another if it meant a chance of getting away from whatever awaited her in his shack, but Trevor didn’t pop up. Sally didn’t scream. And she was led into Michael’s shack with only the slightest struggle.

The room contained nothing but a full-sized bed, a battered desk and chair, and a few piles of unlaundered clothes. Surveying the scene, Lily smirked as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Couldn’t even clean up a little for me?” she asked.

“Didn’t exactly know you were coming,” Michael said. “So there’s that.”

Stretching to her full height in her whore’s costume, Lily found the strength to press her hands to her leather-clad hips, her eyes blazing as she drank in the sight of him removing his jacket. “That’s a lot of ink,” she murmured as her eyes focused on his arms.

“What’s it to you?” he asked as he tossed his leather jacket to the floor.

“Nothing,” I said. “But I bet there are a lot of stories behind each tat.”

Pulling off his shirt, Michael turned to a small fridge and cracked open a beer. But the sound seemed to fade into the distance as she saw the scars crossing his back. Unable to suppress a gasp, she watched with wild eyes as he faced her again.

“You want to hear the stories behind these?” he asked.

“I… no…”

Lily fell back to the bed, and in a split second, Michael was before her, on top of her, and he gripped her arms as he peered into her watering eyes.

“Let me fill you in, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve got blood on my hands and the scars to prove it. So don’t think that you can scare me.”

As she trembled, that seemed almost impossible, and Lily was still as he stroked her face. “But I think I do,” Lily whispered.

Michael pulled back, his hand still on her face, and he laughed as he shook his head. “Why? Because you tried to help the other one?” he asked. “Ken had her back.”

“What’s he doing to her now?” Lily asked.

Michael stood slowly, and she winced when he undid his belt. His jeans fell to the floor with a light thud, and as he kicked off his boots, he pulled a battered chair from its lonely corner and sat slowly, his pulsing cock throbbing between his fingers.

“He’ll take care of her,” Michael said. “You want me to do that, too?”

Starting to her feet, Lily focused on the door and thought about trying to make another break for it.

“That’s not happening.” Michael seemed to read her mind, and his hold tightened around her wrist as he pulled her close.

She couldn’t help but gaze down at the firm length of his cock. What would that feel like if he pushed it inside her? Probably more than Dan could ever imagine, and she started to sink to her knees when Michael snapped his fingers and kept her at attention.

“Strip,” he ordered. He pushed her away, and Lily suddenly felt a strange attachment to her whore’s costume.

“But you wanted me to wear---”

“And now I want you in nothing,” Michael said.

Lily started to pull the red top over her head, but when she hesitated with falling hands, Michael stood and grabbed her arms.

“You’re still bought and paid for,” he said. “And I need you to follow my orders.”

She felt his hand pulling at her shirt, but before her bare breasts hit the dim light, Lily seized his wrist, and she stared into his eyes. “Like you can make me,” Lily said.

“I can make you do anything that I need you to do.”

Michael’s breath hit her mouth, and Lily nearly swooned when he brought his kiss to her lips. The feel of his mouth on hers was softer than she would have imagined, and she started to sink into the sensation when she saw his eyes, so sure that she was beaten. But he didn’t…

“No!”

Lily dared to push him away, and she watched him totter and hold his ground as looked up into her eyes.

“No way you can make me do anything without my consent.”

“Seriously?” he asked.

“Deadly.”

Michael paused before taking her hair in his hand. She cried out, but his tug lasted for only a moment before he flung her from the bed to her knees. Looking up from the floor, she recovered her strength and smoothed her hands through her hair.

“Strip,” he said.

“I already told you–”

“Equal playing field,” Michael said. “And then… then we’ll see”

“Okay. Fine!”

Standing tall, Lily removed her red top, and she peeled the leather slacks from her trembling thighs, the heeled boots going right along with them.

“That’s better,” Michael whispered.

Naked under his eyes, she told herself that she could hold this stance without a second thought. Nakedness was nothing. She’d seen Dan bare more than enough times to know that flesh was just that. That it was just…

“What… what are you doing?”

Michael fell silent, and Lily did not flinch as his hand curled around her thigh.

Nothing. Just a touch. I can move past it. I…

A small sigh passed through her lips as Michael made his next move. Slipping his hand between her legs, he fingered her cunt, and he probed her soft folds, his finger threatening, promising to push inside her. But every time she was ready to encase him with the power of her pussy, Michael pulled away and simply grazed her sensitive flesh, his eyes fixed on her face until she looked at him again.

“Fuck consent,” he said. “I know you need this.”

She didn’t want to; she should be stronger. But when Michael ran his finger from the walls of her cunt to the quivering crack of her ass, Lily moaned around him. “It’s… it’s not fair,” Lily whispered.

“Why not?” Michael asked. “Neither one of us have anything to hide.”

That much was true, and she felt as if she was drugged as she slipped closer to his broad chest, her lips pursed and ready to taste his flesh. Michael permitted her to explore his frame with her lips, her hands, but when she tried to bring his face closer to hers, he seized her wrists and pushed her back to the bed.

“What are you–?”

“What I want to do.”

Michael laid her out slowly, and he lifted her arms over her head. Twirling her fingers together, Lily expected rope to rival Sally’s, but Michael did not tie her down. He simply pressed one finger to her parched lips, and he breathed into her shoulder. “I’m going to make you forget where you came from,” he started. “I’m going to make you wish that you’d been with me forever.”

Thoughts of Dan poked through her brain, and Lily stretched up, wriggling under his hold. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I–”

“I do. I know.” Pushing her back to the bed, Michael gripped her hands tight, and he pushed his knees into her thighs as he hovered above her. “I know that there’s no chance of you leaving this place,” he continued. “And I know that you don’t want to–”

“Don’t I?” Lily asked.

He hesitated, and his fingers ran down her arms until he touched her middle, his palm relaxing into the rise and fall of her breath.

“I think you want me to take you,” Michael said. “I… I know that you want…”

Struggling to sit up, Lily felt him moving with her, and when she was able to see his eyes clearly, she dared to touch his face and bring his gaze closer to hers. “You really think so?” Lily asked.

Michael’s sudden stare was more of a challenge than any words could ever be, and yet she leaned forward to kiss his lips when he flipped Lily to my back and captured her wrists in his hands.

“What are you doing?” Lily asked, begged.

“Getting my money’s worth,” he said. “Stop talking.”

Michael did not gag her, but Lily fell silent as he pushed her into the bed and brought his lips to her ear. “I want you to wait,” he started. “You won’t scream, and you won’t cry. Understand?”

Lily nodded into the sheets, and her body trembled as she felt his hard ass pressing into her ankle. She could still kick him. Maybe even run, but then he ran his fingers down her back, and she moaned against his touch.

“That’s a good girl,” Michael said.

Trailing kisses down he limbs, Lily’s body buzzed with each smack of his lips, and when his tongue grazed her cunt, she sighed through her skin and clutched the pillows.

“Don’t…”

“Like you don’t want it.” She had no strength with which to answer. Lily knew nothing but the wet warmth that bathed her walls and promised to move deeper. When she felt the tip of his tongue stretching closer to the pit of her stomach, Lily turned on her side, and Michael wrapped one arm around her neck.

“I… I do,” she confessed. “I want---“

“That’s better.”

Lily didn’t have a chance to breathe as Michael pulled her off the bed and pressed her to her knees. “What–?”

“Tell me your name,” Michael ordered.

Lily sighed quietly, but Michael relinquished none of his hold as he stared into her wide eyes. “What… what are you going to do with–?”

“Your name!”

She quivered around his hands, but she lost her strength under her hands. “Lily,” she offered

Michael turned her head around in his hands, and he finally held her fast again. “Nice,” he said. “I’ll do everything to you.”

For the first time since the flat tire, she wasn’t afraid of what that might mean, and she started to hold him when he pushed her head close to his cock.

“What–?”

“Give me what I want, and I’ll do the same.”

Michael’s cock pulsed on the verge of her lips. She could escape now with one sharp bite, and her teeth tensed around him and the possibility. But he said that he could show her pleasures untold. And Lily wanted to know the truth behind his words. If the only way to reach that point was to suck him…

His cock was hard and pulsing before her lips, and Lily strained forward to take him into her mouth.

“Lily…”

Tuning out the sound of his voice, she surrounded his cock with every inch of her lips, and she started to pull back. Then she moved deeper, and she suckled his cock, and he sighed at the feel of him swirling across her tongue. Deep throating was something that she had never done with Dan, but even if he hadn’t taken her against her will, Dan had never made her feel like this.

Surrounding her cock with all of her lips, Lily kissed the tip of his piece before running her tongue up and down his shaft. She felt him trembling around her kiss, and when he started to release between her lips, Lily sucked harder, and she tasted all of him, swallowed every bit of his essence as he twirled her hair in his hands.

“That’s good,” he moaned. “Nice…”

Lily looked into his eyes, his cock still in her mouth. She felt sure that she had sucked him dry when he pulled out and flipped her back to the bed.

“What–?”

“Just hold still.”

Plucking a few lengths of rope from the floor, he started to bind her wrists to the frame of the bed, and as she felt her hands tied, she could focus on nothing but his approach.

“I’ll reward you now.”

Michael worked his way inside her without protest, and Lily’s unbound legs curled around his as he pushed deeper.

“Okay. Oh yes…”

Michael’s cock settled inside her, and Lily arched her hips to take all of him inside her. Savoring the feel of his pulse, Lily forgot her fear and sighed.

“It’s… it’s still wrong,” Lily said.

“No,” Michael crooned. “Look at me. Look into my eyes.”

She found his gaze, and a part of her squirmed under the force of his eyes. Dan had never made her feel fear. Well…there was always the fear that she was selling herself short, but his cock nearly satisfied. But whenever she started to fall asleep in his arms, Dan’s snore made her wonder what else was out there. And now…

“Look at me,” Michael ordered. “Don’t even think about anything else.”

Pushing the idea of Dan aside, Lily forgot him, and she focused on nothing but Michael’s ragged face.

He could still hurt me. Maybe I want him to. Maybe I want to know what it is to be– “What do you really want to do to me?” she asked.

Michael twisted one finger under her chin, and he dragged her eyes to his. “I want to make you melt,” he said. “Think I can do that?”

He didn’t have to ask the question, but Lily’s old instincts curled under her skin, and she struggled against her bonds, longing to press her palms to his chest.

“I don’t know,” Lily said. “Can you?”

His eyes blazed with the promise of the challenge, and he pushed his lips into her chest, his tongue bathing each soft mound in a surprisingly tender kiss. Lily’s body thrashed for all of a second before going limp in his arms, and when his hold tightened, when he pulled her closer to his eyes, she had no choice but to stay suspended in his stare as he stroked her sides.

“Do you know what I can do?”

Maybe she did. “You’re… you’re bruised,” she started. “You’re beaten.”

“Think you might have had something to do with–”

“But you protected Sally,” she said. “And… and I think that you brought me…”

Trevor would have called it sex when it was nothing but rape. And just the thought of that caused Lily to quiver. But just the thought. Not the reality when… when…

“I’m not stopping,” he said as he pushed deeper.

“Okay,” Lily whispered. “But what if… what if I say no?”

Michael appeared to consider her question carefully, and he nearly kissed her lips when he stopped short and curled his fingers around her neck. “Say no,” he said. “Tell me that you don’t want this.”

Part of her still wanted to break free and run home, but when Michael’s hand moved down her back and settled around her ass, she sighed into the feel of his fingers, and the corners of her mouth lifted into a small smile.

“You… you didn’t have to buy me,” Lily said. “I would have gone with you anyway.”

Mirroring her smile, Michael suddenly untied her, and running was the last things from her mind. As he pressed his lips to her breasts and suckled her flesh, Lily curved her arm around his neck and sighed into his shoulder.

“Any–”

Her words, her thoughts came to a clean stop when Michael flipped her body on top of his, his hands still clutching her close, and even as she struggled under the force of his touch, Lily peered into his eyes, and she moaned when Michael thrust closer and his arms consumed her body.

“Don’t believe you,” he said. “Girl like you? I had to pay for this before you could run.”

The scene in the desert night required more than so-called law and order. In their world, there was justice, and there were tears. But she didn’t want to sob in his arms. She wanted everything that she could have run away from and more.

“I… I want to know why you think you’re so strong,” she said.

Michael took hold of the back of her neck, and he forced her face to his. “I am strong,” he said. “And I can show you how–”

No doubt he could. But the lure of his lips.

“I can’t help this,” she said. “I–”

Straining towards his lips, Lily kissed him softly, and she basked in the feel of his arms swirling around her back. There was no fear in the space of his hold, and when his fingers passed her thigh and clung close to her cunt, Lily reached down. Seizing his hand in hers, she brought her fingers close to her pussy, and when she saw him smile at the sensation of her mound, Lily leaned into him and nipped his nose.

“Am I… did you do it to just make me your slave?” she asked.

He nodded and stopped mid-shake as he clutched her face in his hands. “What’s so wrong with that,” he whispered. “I’ll take good care of you, you know.”

She stated to sink into the feel of his hands, but then her mind flashed back to auction and the idea of Sally dragged across the desert sands.

“I don’t want…” Kicking him hard, Lily groped towards the door, and she was about to turn the knob in her hands when Michael was on her again.

“Yes, you do!” he said. “You came out here wanting–”

“I want out!” she screamed. “Let me go!”

Michael’s hold was tight, and he wrestled her to the ground, his body on top of hers. He kissed her face into silence and stopped around her lips. When she saw his eyes, Lily flinched, but Michael stroked her chin as he gazed into her eyes.

“Don’t think I want you to do that,” he said. “I bought you. I have you now. And I want to… I want…”

He smashed his lips to hers again, and Lily struggled some until his cock pressed inside her. At the first thrust, she had no choice but to sigh at his entry. The feel of him inside her, the thrill of it was something that she could not deny, and when he plunged deeper, Lily took hold of his back, and she narrowed her eyes around his. “You want to fuck me,” she whispered.

With a nod and the light feel of his fingers against her cheek, he smiled down at her. “Have from the start,” he said. “And you won’t say no.”

“Won’t I?”

“No way!”

Michael filled her, and Lily’s body arched without thinking to take in all of his cock. She groaned on impact, and when he pushed deeper, Lily wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips, and when his lips danced close to hers, Lily was ready to kiss him. She breathed into his mouth and felt his kiss leading her away from the darkness and into a new light. All she had to do was hold him and sigh into his flesh and–

“I need you here,” Michael said. “With me.”

As she hung onto the length of his cock, Lily nodded, and her fingers touched his ink. Her touch curved towards the brands that were not of his choosing, and as she pressed her nails into the gaps that had nothing to do with tattoos, he curled closer to her and flashed a perfect smile.

“So don’t go,” he said. “Stay with me.”

“Michael, I–”

“Do it or I’ll have to hurt you.”

Lily swallowed hard, and her mind, her body, fought against the prospect of new pain.

“I…I don’t want to leave,” she whispered. “I want to…I want…”

“There’s only what I want,” Michael said. “And it can be sweet. Because I take care of what’s mine.”

As he flipped her to her back, Lily sighed as he took her from behind. And her cunt spread to accept every inch if his cock. “Jesus Christ!” Lily screamed.

Michael pulsed around her, his hands running up and down her sides, his fingers stopping every few strokes to probe and caress her cunt. “You want more?” he asked.

Lily barely managed a nod when he pulled her hips closer to his.

“I know you do,” he said. “Come closer.” He grabbed her waist, his fingers kneading the soft, quivering flesh of her ass. She felt her body enslaved by the force of his cock and the heat of his hands. “Closer,” he purred.

Diving deeper, his thrusts barely left her now, and the feel of him throbbing inside caused her to arch her body forward, her hair spilling across his chest, and she was startled when he surrounded her throat with a strong harm and pressed his lips to her burning ear.

“Beg me for it,” he whispered.

“I… I…”

“Beg me, or I’ll pull out right now.”

A small part of her thought that she should be smart and simply hold her tongue. Because despite the pounding of her heart and the delicious trembles crossing her skin, she was his property now. She was only here because she had been tricked into the auction. But Lily swallowed that thought down to the pit of her soul as his fingers danced down to her breasts. He took hold of her hard nipple, and at the first tug, a sharp shiver ran down Lily’s spine.

How could she even think of…? “Please,” she whispered.

“Louder,” Michael ordered as he pulled harder on her breast. Stretching her arms behind her head, Lily nearly had her hair between his fingers. “No,” he hissed. “Say the words. Now!”

Pushing her into the bed, Lily bit down on the sheets, and turned her mind to nothing but the pulsing of his cock. “Please!” she screamed, her voice muffled in the linens.

“Again.”

Lifting her head over his shoulder, she saw the sweat dripping from his brow, his eyes narrowed as he paused in his pursuit. Escape? The definition of the word evaporated from her vocabulary, and Lily fixed her stare on his eyes.

“Do me now,” she said. “If you–”

Tossing his head back with a dark laugh, he pulled her up by her hair and crushed his palm to her middle.

“You’ll pay for that.”

For a second, she feared that he would make good on his threat to abandon her before the moment of climax, and she started to take the words back. But as she tried to speak, he slammed her into the bed with three quick thrusts, and at the final push, he released a stream of lust that threatened to drown her from within. Crying out with total abandon, her cunt tightened to savor every inch of his massive piece, and when he relaxed to a slow pulse, his cock still buried in the confines of her wet walls, Lily wanted to stay like this forever, and an anguished moan passed through her lips at the feel of him starting to soften inside her.

“Don’t–”

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael’s cock came to a gentle rest inside her, but he honored his promise and stayed in the space of her pussy. Falling to the bed with her, Lily struggled to catch her breath, and as he draped his arms around her sweating, swooning body, he cupped her breasts in his hands and nuzzled her neck.

“Like that, didn’t you?” he asked.

Lily could do little more than nod, and he did not demand the words. Good thing; she lacked the strength to push them out. Michael turned her face to his, and Lily blinked as she strained to focus on his face

“How… how did you know?” she finally managed.

“Know what?” he asked.

“That… that this was just what I needed?”

He sighed heavily and pressed one finger to her mouth. Lily was too weak to suckle his skin, but Michael parted her lips and granted her the taste of his flesh. “Saw it in your eyes,” he said. “No other way I would have laid out that much cash for you.”

Those words alone should have been the shot of adrenaline to bring her to her feet and start her running. But she was weary from the events of this strange day, and his embrace was strong and sure.

“Happy with the purchase?” she murmured.

“Absolutely,” Michael said.

Curling closer to her, he grabbed her face and peered into her eyes. “And there’s no way that I’m ever letting you go.”

“Rise and shine, newbie.”

Lily blinked at the sight of sunlight peering through the windows. Her body still buzzed at the feel of Michael’s conquest of her cunt. Touching the empty side of the bed, she wondered where he had gone, and…

“Oh shit!”

Sitting up fast, Lily covered her body with the blanket, her eyes whipping wildly in every direction. Despite the pleasure that still coated her pussy, the reality of the situation slammed back into her with horrific force. Captured. Kidnapped. Sold.

Fucked ten ways to Sunday.

It was beyond incredible, but in the light of day, she had to try to get her bearings and get away…

“You’re Lily, right?”

Brushing her hair from her eyes, Lily saw a plump redhead with a bright smile moving towards the bed. She carried a tray of toast and eggs in her hands, and as she settled by her side, the woman touched her face with a gentle hand. “Don’t be freaked,” she said. “Michael filled me in.”

Looking to the abandoned side of the bed again, Lily lowered her head and spoke softly. “Where is he?” she asked.

“Club business” the woman said in a matter of fact tone. “The boys do what they gotta do.”

Finding her wide blue eyes, Lily was stunned by the brightness of the smile stretching across her face. “Are you… do you belong to one of them?” Lily asked.

“I’m… I was Leo’s girl,” she said.

“Leo?”

“Ken’s little brother,” she said. “You met Ken, right?”

Lily remembered the silver-haired man taking pity of the quivering, gagged girl, and… “Sally!” Lily cried out. “Is–”

“Oh the other new one?” the woman asked. “Teeny tiny thing?”

No way that that girl could have endured a night like hers, and Lily gripped the stranger’s arm hard. “Where is–?”

“Relax, honey,” she said. “Ken’s a pussycat. She’s already had her breakfast, and she is no worse for the wear.”

Not sure if she should believe her, Lily pushed aside the idea of Sally’s body ravaged and broken, and she sighed before she spoke. “Because we’re all so safe here,” she challenged. “Were you on an auction block, too? Were you–?”

Lily was stunned into silence when the redhead laughed loudly and patted her arm. “You take me back,” she said. “Yeah. I was on the circuit. Mad Angels were the worst.”

“Mad Angels?” Lily asked.

A cloud passed over her eyes, and the woman appeared lost in an awful memory. “Kept me tied up,” she started. “Got their rocks off by cutting into their girls’ skin with razors. Kind of makes you wish for a tap and just be done with it.”

Lily shuddered in the wake of her words, and she was quietly grateful that some chance of fate had brought her into Michael’s brand of captivity. “But… but now you’re here?” Lily asked.

“Yep,” she said. “Going on three years. One without Leo. Ken says hands off. He loved his brother, honey.”

Again her mind turned to Sally. “So Sally is… she’s really okay?”

“Trust, sweetheart. Thank whatever God there is that Trevor didn’t get his hands on her.”

Picking up a slim piece of toast, Lily nibbled slowly. The sustenance warmed her stomach and cleared her head, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she peered into the woman’s eyes again. “What’s your name?”

“Sophia,” she said. “And you’re safe. And to see Michael this morning, I bet you’re feeling pretty satisfied to boot.”

No way she could deny that with a straight face, and Lily picked at the eggs on the tray. Scrambled. Her mother’s specialty. Maybe it was too soon for her to be worried just yet, but if she was stuck here for three years or even three weeks… “How do I get away?” she said carefully.

Sophia cocked her head to the side and slowly shook her head. “You don’t, sweetie,” Sophia said. “But Michael’ll keep you safe. And…every other kind of happy, no?”

Hidden under the sheets, her cunt blazed at the memory of him. It was a warm sensation that she wanted to indulge again. But three years? Longer? Lily had a life. She had parents and a kind of fiancé that she promised to get back to. “I…I need to…”

“What do you need?”

Lily dropped her toast as Michael entered the room. His hair slicked back his, his eyes blazing, he sauntered towards the bed.

“I know when I’m not wanted,” Sophia said.

Abandoning the tray, Sophia patted her cheek, and as she moved past Michael, Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Try to put her mind at ease,” Sophia said. “She’s still a little jumpy.”

“Don’t I know it,” Michael said.

Sophia disappeared, and Michael assumed the place at Lily’s side. “Hey there,” he said.

“Hey,” she said as she shredded the toast between her fingers.

“You okay?” he asked.

When he touched her hand, Lily was brought back to the memory of their strange night. In some ways, in many ways, it had brought her her heart’s desire, and as Lily’s eyes glanced down at the space between his taut thighs, she couldn’t help but want him again. But… “She… she said she’s been here for three years,” Lily said.

“Sounds about right,” Michael said. “Hold up.” Pushing her hair from her face, Michael stared at her hard with a soft nod. “I like your eyes,” he said. “How about you keep them where I can see them?”

Just the feel of his hand on her cheek nearly enticed her to toss the tray aside and mount him again, captive or not, but as his fingers winded around his, Lily lifted her face to his and spoke slowly. “I… I can’t stay here that long,” she said. “I– ”

“Why not?” he challenged. “And don’t even try to tell me that you didn’t love it.”

There was no way that she could spin that lie convincingly. “I did,” she said. “But this is not where I’m supposed to be.”

“And where are you supposed to be, Lily?”

“I… I…”

If she told him the truth, if he knew what Dan might be and what her father always was, it would do nothing to aid her cause. And did she really want to go back to that? “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I just can’t think– ”

“Don’t think, Lily,” Michael said. “Just come here.”

Now he sent the tray crashing to the ground, and he pulled the sheets from her bare body. Lily made no move to hide her flesh from his eyes, and she bit down on her lip as he stripped quickly and settled at her side.

“Feel me,” he said. “Right here.” Taking her hand in his, Michael brought her fingers around her cock, and she couldn’t help but smile at the feel of his hardness brushing against her palm. “Try to tell me that you don’t want this?” he asked.

“I… oh Christ…” Leaning into him, Lily studied the line of his mouth. She still had to get away from this at the first chance. But what was one more time…? “Put it in me,” she whispered. “Please.”

Michael shifted away from her, and Lily’s eyes watered at the sight of his rippling muscles covered in ink and scars. Grazing her fingers along the lines of his arms, she lowered her head to his chest and listened to the beating of his heart. “I do want this,” she said. “But… but this has to be the last– ”

Michael seized her in his arms, and Lily gasped when his panting breath trailed down her neck, she fell silent and could do nothing but look into his eyes. “Last my ass,” he said. “I own you now. And you– ”

“No!”

Forming a small fist, Lily crushed a swift blow into his arms, and she scrambled away from the bed. She had no clothes; not even the whore’s costume to give her something in the way of cover. But still she reached for the door, and the knob was nearly in her hand when Michael’s body enveloped her, and he wrestled her into the wall. “You’re mine!” Michael said. “I won’t have you–”

“I am not supposed to be here!” Lily cried. “I– ”

He silenced her with a hot kiss, and in the first instant, her body flailed around his tight embrace. As she struggled, she feared that there was no chance of breaking free, and Lily stilled as he pulled at her hair and stared into her eyes.

“Supposed to?” he challenged. “That’s gone. You belong to me, and–”

“Get the fuck off of me!”

Her foot crashed into his shin, and when he doubled over, Lily moved to the door again. But Michael moved fast and pulled her back into the depth of the room.

“I don’t want–”

“And I don’t believe you, Lily.”

Pushing her back to the bed, Michael pressed her into the rumpled sheets, and he kicked her legs apart. Absorbing the pain shooting towards her thighs, Lily’s cunt quivered at the prospect of his cock.

“I see you,” he said. “I feel you.”

“Not again,” she said. “I have to–”

“You have to keep quiet.”

Lily was ready to spit in his face when his cock plunged into her pussy. At the first thrust, Lily screamed her frustrated lust into the air. “Michael… don’t…”

No part of him, save for his cock, heard her voice, and Lily’s body beat her mind. Her flesh encased his piece, and as he settled inside her, Michael grabbed her hair, and his lips curled into a sultry smirk. “Don’t lie to me,” he said. “You want this.”

Lily tried to protest, but Michael crushed his lips to hers. She tried to push him off, but when his hips spread wider and his tongue curled around hers, she wordlessly whined. She needed to get away. She had a life that wasn’t this. And…

“Hold on, baby.”

Michael moved inside her, and his cock swirled against, inside her pussy. Pushing deeper, somehow deeper than the previous night, Lily groaned in anticipation.

And then he suddenly flipped the script. “I told you…”

Abandoning her body, he pulled out and stared down at her quivering form. The loss of his cock brought tears to her eyes, and she tried to bring him back to the bed when Michael shifted further away and shook his head.

“You want me to let you go like this?” he asked. “No. You so want more.”

She shouldn’t. But she did. The lure of his lips, his cock, was everything that she had always wanted, and Lily stretched forward and enfolded her in his arms.

“I do,” she murmured into his neck. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong? Lily…” Pressing his fingers under her chin, Michael forced her gaze to his, and she caught the faint glimpse of a smile. “How can this be wrong?” he asked. “Stop thinking so much.”

It was a kind of an insult, and Lily was ready to lay into him, and when his fingers surrounded her neck, she expected him to press down until she had no hope of breath.

“Lily…” Michael surprised her with a series of soft caresses, and as their eyes met again, Lily grew still in his arms. “You just don’t get it,” he said. “There’s no going back. And if I say the word, Trevor’s back or you find yourself shipped out to the Mad Angels.”

Lily started to cry at the thought of her body slashed to bloody ribbons, but then she reclaimed her breath and held her head high. “Would you really do that?” she asked. “Like sell me for a song?”

Michael’s jaw went tight, and his hand moved down her back, his fingers settling about the crack of her ass, and they moaned together as he pulled her closer. “Won’t give you up without a fight,” he said. “And I don’t think you’ll just take off without another shot.”

His legs melted around her limbs, and she felt his cock entering her pussy. Lily threw her head back at the instant of penetration, and she forgot all the reasons why she needed to get back home as her fingers surrounded his muscles. Hardness in her hands, greater strength pushing into her pussy, Lily’s body buckled in his embrace, and she hung her head as he started to pulse.

“Did you dream about me last night?” he asked.

Looking up between his throbs, she basked in the light of his eyes and licked her lips. “I did,” she murmured. “What about you?”

Pulling her closer, his hand settled at the small of her back, and he pushed his palm into her heated flesh.

“No,” he said.

Lily’s head hung in the wake of an anguished moan, and she dared to touch his face. “Don’t’ lie–”

“I’m not,” he said as he took hold of her wrist. Lily vacillated between fury and falling as he pressed his lips to her eyes and moaned into her face. “I want the real thing,” he said.

Dan had said that she could have her adventure and just see what happened. Neither one of them had counted on the cock that belonging to Michael Roberson, and Lily forgot every old dream and slipped closer to the man at her side and dared to kiss his taut pecs.

“Maybe…maybe I do, too,” Lily whispered.

Michael curled her closer, and his lips brushed against hers. He flashed a small smile, and Michael fell into her mouth. His kiss was hot; his cock continued throb, and as she peeled her face from his, Michael still honed in on her eyes. “So we’re in agreement?”

Taking hold of the question in his voice, Lily gave Michael a slight nod.

“There she is,” he said.

Flipping her to her belly, she pushed her nails into the pillows again. Michael’s cock pushed around and inside her walls, but Lily wanted to look at him, and she shifted to her back and grabbed his face.

“Here I am,” Lily said. “And I did–” Her voice fell away as he grinded into her hips. His cock expanded inside her, and as she strained forward to take more of him in, Lily touched his face and lowered her lids. “How could I not dream about you?”

In the face of her peace offering, Michael kept throbbing, but he fell to her face and kissed her cheeks. “Glad to hear that,” he said. “Let’s make it in reality.”

Michael held her arms down, and his cock swirled in and around her cunt. Arching her hips, Lily took his ass in her hands, and she pushed him closer with a sharp sigh. “That’s good,” she said. Twisting his head from side to, Lily tensed in the space of his gaze.

“But not the whole dream,” he challenged.

“I…I don’t know what–?”

“Yes you do,” he said.

Curving his kiss to her breasts, Michael nipped her flesh. Between bites, the feel of which set her teeth on edge, Lily slipped into a series of exhilarated moans as the sensation of his bite was suddenly replaced by the feel of his tongue bathing her nipples, and as she sighed, Michael brought his hand to the back of her head and made her look at him again. “You need this,” he said. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

Before Lily could speak, Michael slithered down her body, and his sudden kiss claimed her pussy. She moaned as his tongue pressed against her clit, and Lily spread her legs as his tongue darted in and out of her walls.

“Here,” Michael said.

One hand stayed on her back while the other tweaked her cunt and dragged her deeper into his lips. His mouth consumed her pussy, and Lily dared to push her nails into his back as she forgot her need to get away. In this moment, she needed nothing but him.

“Do me,” Lily moaned. “I want this. I… I need…”

“I know.”

Michael kissed her again, and she clamped down on his cock as he focused on her eyes.

“You need this.”

Michael started to thrust, and Lily’s head fell to his shoulder. She could live on this feeling for the rest of her life. This was what she had dreamed of. But forever? She wasn’t–

“I… I need to hold you,” she whimpered.

Michael stilled inside her, and he touched her face as he looked into her eyes. “No you don’t,” Michael said. “You need this.”

He lifted her body from the bed and pressed her into the door. As soon as the scratchy surface hit her back, Lily sighed silently as he stayed inside her, and as she reveled around the length of his cock, Lily sighed into his shoulders,

“Am I right?” Michael said. “Don’t you want it?”

“I… yes…” She sighed at the feel of his stream saturating her cunt, and she brought her arm around his back and dragged him closer. “I want it,” she whispered. “I… I want you.”

Michael finished inside her with a quick push and stayed against the wall as he stroked her thighs. Falling to his knees, he cradled her thighs in her hands and gazed up into her face. “And I want you,” he said. “You can’t leave me now. I just found you.”

Sharing his feeling, Lily stroked his face when Michael surprised her by standing to attention and hoisting her into his arms.

“Forget the past,” he said. “This is the present. This is now.” Lily didn’t speak as he laid her out on the bed. He kissed her hair and suddenly stopped, making no other move but to bring her into his arms. “Don’t think about why you’re here,” he said. “Just know that you are.”

Sinking into his arms, Lily still saw her parents and Dan fretting over her fate. She hated the thought of hurting them, of hurting anyone. But then Michael pulled her closer, and as she settled into his chest, Lily remembered that she had wanted her own adventure. “Michael?” she whispered.

His gaze hit her eyes, and she stroked his chin with a smile.

“I won’t... I don’t think I can run away,” she said.

A light filled Michael’s eyes, and he lifted her into his embrace as his fingers dotted the space about her eyes. “Better,” he said. “Because I’m not letting you go.” Michael kissed her hard, and his arm swirled around her back as their mouths parted. As their eyes locked, Michael stroked her cheek with a sigh. “So glad I found you.” he said.

There was a whole world in her wake, and Lily hated the thought of her mother’s tears. But Corinne had told her to see what else was out there. And maybe one day she would come back. A part of her wanted that. But in this moment… “Me, too.”

“There it is,” Michael said.

He kissed the top of her head before pushing away from the bed. She knew little more than his name, but no other man, Dan included, had ever made her feel like this, and he would stay to see what happened next.

“I fucked up your breakfast,” Michael said as he tried to clean the spill from the floor.

“And I’m suddenly really hungry, too,” she said.

“Are you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lily said. “What are you going to do about it?”

Michael pulled up his pants and started for the door, and he nearly called out Sophia’s name when she pushed off the bed and clamped her hand around his mouth.

“Don’t bother her,” Lily purred. “Just come back to the bed.”

Pulling his pants away, Lily sighed as his cock filled her again, and she couldn’t help but smile at the first pulse.

“Sally?”

Michael was still sleeping when Lily slipped from his side and stepped into the night. She was not thinking of running; she knew she’d never get very far. Maybe she didn’t want to. Her heart splintered some at the thought of her frantic mother, and she still believed that one day she would see her again. Maybe her father would even be happy to see her. And Dan…?

Her mind was more confused on that front. She still loved him, in her own way. But Michael was doing things to her, making her feel things that she had only ever dreamt of, and she didn’t know if she could ever go back to his controlled notions of how they should lay in bed…

“Sally.”

The girl was sitting in a lawn chair, staring into the clouds. They had only spoken once since the night of their capture, just long enough to exchange names and for Lily to believe that she was truly okay. Ken took her by the arm soon after and led her away. It seemed like both Diesel Devils were taking steps to keep their purchases close to the vest, but as Michael and Ken slept, they finally had a moment alone.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Sally asked.

“No.”

“That’s weird,” Sally said.

“Weird?” Lily asked.

Sally’s lips curled into a sly smile, and she gave her a quick wink.

“I can hear how he’s been making you scream.”

Lily felt her cheeks grow crimson in the full moonlight, and she bowed her head. “And here I thought I was being so subtle,” Lily said. Studying Sally’s face carefully, Lily saw no trace of the terrified girl from the night of the auction. She seemed calm, almost at peace with this hand that they had both been dealt, and she lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “What…what is he doing to you?” Lily asked.

“Ken?” A dreamy look crossed her face, and even as Lily searched her memory for the sound of Sally’s scream apart from the auction block, she was coming up blank, and she waited with baited breath for the answer. “He’s… he’s been sweet,” she started. “Ever since he rescued me from… from that other one.”

Lily shared her fear at the memory of Trevor, and she knew that despite the insanity of the situation, they were both better off away from that madman.

“Just sweet?” Lily asked.

“No,” Sally continued, and Lily shifted closer to her, eager to absorb the rest of the story.

“I mean…I mean he knew I was real scared. But he told that he would keep me safe. Nice change of pace.”

“From the auction you mean?”

“From life, Lily,” Sally said.

Stretching to her feet, her pale pink robe spilling at her bare feet, she stepped across the sparkling grains of sand and held herself close.

“You got a boyfriend?” she asked. “In your other life?”

“Kind of a fiancé,” Lily said.

“And were you running away from him, too?”

“I… it’s complicated,” I just needed some time to… you know. To clear my head.”

“Well, be thankful he gave you that option.”

Curling her head over her shoulder, Sally peered into Lily’s eyes for a split second before lowering her head. “Mine liked to pass me around to his friends,” she said. “Spread and serve whenever they wanted it. And they wanted it a lot.”

“You…you mean you were raped?” Lily asked as she shuddered.

“Lots of times,” Sally confessed. “And then he found out that he could get a lot more out of me if he put me up for sale. That’s how I ended up at the auction.”

Moving to her feet, Lily lightly touched her arm and lifted Sally’s face to hers. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“I was so scared,” she said as tears started to stream down her porcelain cheeks. “I mean… at least with Henry, I knew what I was getting. Day in and day out. But that night… and when that creep… when he bought me… when he put his hands on me.”

Her body was wracked with sobs, and Lily instinctively took her into her arms. Holding her close, she ran her fingers through her hair as she whispered into her ear. “It’s okay,” Lily assured her.

Sally sobbed her to shoulder before a good while, and Lily caressed her heaving back. When the girl’s tears were spent, Sally lifted her moist face with a small smile. “Yeah,” she agreed. “It is now.” They sat together again, and Sally kept her hands in Lily’s “Ken’s different,” she said. “I mean… I mean sure. He touches me. He kisses me. But mostly he’s just been real sweet. I… I know it’s crazy, but I think it’s kind of like lucky that I’m here.”

Compared to what she had endured and what Trevor most definitely would have done to her, absolutely. No question about it. But that was Sally’s lot. Dan never forced Lily to degrade herself in that way, and while Sally could slip into this scene with ease of Sophia and thank her lucky stars that she had landed a sweet silver fox, could Lily really stay here and pretend that things had been so bad back at home? Great sex aside, she and Michael could never have more than that, and her mind started to race with how she would make her escape. It would have to wait until morning. When she had some chance of seeing her way back to the real world. Maybe she could boost one of their bikes. She’d never ridden, but how hard could it be? Her mind settled on the plan when a massive roar hit the air and a series of bright headlines appeared just beyond the horizon.

“What’s that?” Sally asked, sounding as terrified as she had looked on the night of the auction.

“I don’t…I don’t…”

Their shared question was met by two Harleys and a series of screams that pierced the night hair. With Sally’s hand still in her, Lily started to pull the girl away from the bright lights and she shielded her face with her hands as the bikes came to a stop and an unwelcome voice drifted into her ears.

“That’s them!” he said.

Raising her head, Lily saw Trevor Carr’s wicked smiled creeping through his rotting teeth, and she pushed Sally behind her as she glared into his cold eyes.

“What do you want?” Lily demanded.

“What do you think?” he challenged. “You two little cunts.”

Pulling his gun from his holster, Trevor aimed below a cruel grin, and he licked his lips as Sally trembled and Lily stayed in his gaze.

“Looks like the boys haven’t been doing such a good job keeping you sluts in check,” he said. “Letting you just wander all around camp like it’s nothing.”

Sally cowered against her back, and Lily shifted her eyes to the other man that strolled to Trevor’s side. He looked as mean as Trevor. Maybe meaner, and when she saw the snarling angel etched on the back of his leather jacket, she knew that he was a Mad Angel.

And Lily’s breath intensified at the thought of what they would do to them.

“So… so what’s the deal?” Lily asked in a quivering voice. “You throw in with them because the Diesel Devils won’t have you anymore?”

Trevor roared with laughter, and the Mad Angel was quick to join in.

“Listen to this one!” Trevor said. “Looks like she got the lay of the land real quick.”

He stepped closer, and Lily flinched when he tried to touch her cheek.

“But Michael has nothing on me, babe,” Trevor said. “And we’re gonna really rock your world. This one, too.” Before Lily could stop him, Trevor seized Sally by her hair, and she went wild when he tore her robe away leaving her naked in the moonlight. “See?” Trevor said as he turned her frantic body towards the other man. “Trimmed and ready for whatever you want.”

The Mad Angel pulled a razor from his pocket, and as the memory of Sophia’s tale of the opposing crew suddenly burned bright in her brain, Lily charged forward and took hold of Trevor’s shoulders. “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Lily screamed. “Leave her-”

She was silenced by the feel of his fist smacking into her middle, and Lily doubled over in agony. Hardly able to lift her head, her soul cracked at the sight of Sally’s body being hauled away. Struggling to come up with some way to help her, to save her, Lily’s thoughts turned to her own fate when the Mad Angel grabbed her arms and started to drag her through the sand.

“Let me go,” Lily moaned. “You can’t–”

“Listen to the lady!”

Lily’s body fell to the sand, and she was slightly relieved when the hands of the Mad Angel left her body. Peering through her hair, she saw a bare-chested Michael with his own gun drawn. Ken was at his side, and Lily watched him lock eyes with Sally.

“Ken…” Sally murmured.

“Let her go,” Ken said in a thick voice. “I paid for her fair and square, Trevor.”

Trevor licked his lips and moaned into her trembling neck. He ran his rough hands up and down her naked sides, and he pressed his fingers between her legs. “I want these bitches,” Trevor said. “So does my new crew. So you better–”

Michael cut him off with a sharp shot. Lily screamed and pressed her hands to her ears as the Mad Angel that had held of her fell to the ground, his face a mass of blood and brains.

“Jesus Christ!” Crawling away from the scene, she paused when she felt Trevor’s gun pushing into the back of her head.

“You think you won’t pay for that?” Trevor said. “You’re a dumber than you look, Michael.”

Lily went still, and she thought that this would be her end. She should have tried to run sooner, and she wanted to find Michael’s eyes one last time. But he failed to meet her gaze, and he narrowed his stare around Trevor.

“No dumber than you,” Michael hissed. “Now you got two choices. Go back empty-handed and see what that gets you, or I can just kill you right here and now. I’m down with the latter, but you let her go, and see me generous”

The barrel of the gun started to shake against her hair and Lily seized the opportunity to take Sally by the arm and fall into the cold sand.

“Stupid sluts!” A shot rang out from Trevor’s gun.

Lily covered Sally with her body, and she saw Michael and Ken duck in unison. He was ready to fire again when the Diesel Devils recovered quickly, and they aimed their guns right at Trevor’s chest.

“We’ll do you right here, right now,” Michael said.

“No.” Ken stepped forward, casting a quick glance at Sally. Trevor was still ready to shoot, but Ken showed no fear as he lunged forward.

“Kill me right now,” Ken challenged.

“No, please!” Sally cried as Lily held her closer.

“And then Michael will blow your fucking head off. What’s it gonna be, coward? Die right here, right now, or maybe you live to fight another day.”

With Sally still in her arms, Lily could barely suppress a satisfied smile as Trevor looked at Michael and started to back off. He stepped over the fallen Mad Angel and mounted his bike. “This isn’t over,” Trevor spat.

“Never said that it was,” Ken said.

Trevor sped off into the night, and when his headlights disappeared, Ken shifted gears and fell to the girls’ side. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Lily expected Sally to burst into tears, but she calmed when Ken held her and covered her with his jacket. “I am now,” she assured him.

Lifting her off the ground, he pressed her close to his chest and snorted at the sight of Michael’s most recent kill bleeding out on the sand. “I’ll get someone to clean that up,” Ken promised. “Take care of her.”

They were gone, and Lily trembled at the sight of the smoking gun in Michael’s hands. “You killed him,” she said in a flat tone.

“I’d kill anyone that tries to touch you.”

He held out his hand, and she accepted his grasp. As soon as he had her off the ground, Michael leaned close to kiss her, but Lily cracked her palm across his face, and her eyes turned to ice as he stared at her in shock.

“What the–?”

“I can’t do this,” Lily said. “You’re a killer, and you’ve kidnapped me. I… I have a life to get back to. I won’t… I won’t let you keep me–”

Michael silenced her with a swift kiss. Lily tried to push him away, the sound of the gunshot and the image of murdered man at the forefront of her mind.

He’s brutal. I have to get away from him. I can’t… I…

Her thoughts turned to the heat of his kiss as his tongue swirled down her throat. Michael wrapped her in his arms and dragged her closer to his chest. Without wanting to or knowing how it was even possible, Lily went limp in his embrace, and when she finally kissed him, she felt his mouth curve into a smile that only intensified when he pulled away and stared hard into her eyes.

“You want to go?” he asked as he cocked his eyebrow. “I’ll drive you out of camp myself.”

“Good,” Lily said. “Then right–”

His hand suddenly surrounded her wrist, and he pulled her close once again. “But know this,” Michael said. “I can’t keep you safe out there. And I can’t…I don’t…” He draped his arm over her back, and his moist kiss met her ear, his whisper drizzling into her veins. “I don’t want you to go,” he said. “I need you here. And you want to be here, too.”

She stated to melt in his arms, and her body went limp as he carried her way from the corpse, other Diesel Devils rushing to attention to conceal his crime.

“Don’t tell me otherwise,” he said. “Don’t lie.”

Back in his bed, Lily was stiff in his hold, and she looked to his eyes, his tattoos, the scars that broke through his skin. “How can you be doing this to me?” she moaned. “I shouldn’t want to stay.”

“But you do,” he said. “Because you know that this is right.”

Kissing her hard, Lily finally brought her arms around his neck, and as their lips parted, she sighed into his chest. “Yes,” Lily admitted. “Don’t know why. I… I just wanted to see what else was out there–”

“And now you know.”

Claiming her mouth again, he pressed his hand between her legs, and his finger slipped into her body. Moaning around his lips, she reached down to her thighs and pressed his hand deeper.

“This is crazy,” she whispered. “Before…right before you did what you did, I was thinking of ways to leave.”

His face darkened, but when she didn’t break away from his hold, Michael brought his brow to hers, and he kissed her neck.

“And now?” he asked.

He was a killer. He was her captor. But he had kept her safe, and he promised to keep doing nothing but. And when his fingers grazed against her cunt… “Right now, I’m not thinking of running.”

Pulling off his pants, Michael tore her clothes away and settled inside her. “Good,” he said. “Don’t ever think about that again.”

He began a slow, smooth stroke against the space of her wet walls, and Lily felt her body sinking deeper into the mattress as he pushed his palms into her shoulders.

“Not thinking about running now, are you?”

Not now. Maybe never again. She forgot her parents and Dan; she forgot the body being buried in the desert. Stretching towards him, Lily wrapped her arms around his taut torso, and she rested her head against his chest. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”

Michael’s cock swirled and pushed inside her, and Lily touched his face with a sure hand.

“Take care of me,” she whispered.

He kissed her lips lightly, and his cock moved deeper. “Always,” he promised. “Forever.”

Lily Nielsen stirred in her sleep. In her dreamscape, she saw the rapidly fading image of a road stretching behind her for miles, and she had the sensation of moving away from something that she couldn’t name. For the slightest of seconds, she caught the sight of her mother reaching for her with a soft, sad smile and open arms. Something told Lily that she should move towards the waiting embrace. But as soon as her feet hit the asphalt, her head whipped over her shoulder and she saw the lines of a broad muscular back mounted on a chopper, speeding off into the opposing distance. Her lips tried to form the name Michael , but only a silent scream hit the air. Michael didn’t stop; he simply hit the gas harder. As Lily watched him disappear over the horizon, she sank to the road. The sand-swept gravel did not break her descent; she was falling deeper, deeper still, her hands flailing wildly as she tried to reach for something, for anything, for Michael…

She gasped as she sat up with a start, ragged breath shaking throughout her heaving chest as she wiped her hands across her perspiring face. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was and how she had gotten here.

I was going… I was starting out on a trip. And my car broke down. A truck? Someone… two men…

In a great rush, everything came back. Her capture, the auction, and the seemingly unimpeachable declaration that her life was no longer her own. Shifting her head over her shoulder, her eyes lingered on Michael’s lean form as he lay at her side, his body still as he was lost in his own dream.

And his words came crashing back to her brain.

I paid good money for you.

The thought of that still made her shiver, and a small voice in the back of her head told her that she should take this chance while he was out cold and try to make her way back to some place resembling civilization. But she had tried that once before, and it had nearly been the end of her. And Sally. Only Michael’s intervention had kept her safe, and he told her that he couldn’t be that if she left his protection. The man was far from all-powerful, and Lily briefly contemplated attempting to make another run for it…

Not thinking about running now, are you?

How could she when the memory of his cock swirling inside her still pulsed between her legs? He was doing things to her that she never thought were possible, especially if she had stayed at home and instantly linked her life to Dan’s.

Dan .

By now he had to know that something was wrong. Had he already set out in a bid to find out where she was or if she was still alive? The idea of him possibly charging to her rescue should have buoyed her spirits, brought tears to her eyes, a smile to her face. Something . But as she pictured his blonde figure in pursuit of her whereabouts, she felt a numbing cold settle across her heart. Was it resignation to her new fate? Or was it the sudden realization that she didn’t care one way or the other if she never laid eyes on him again?

One thing was certain as her thoughts raced in every direction. Dan never would have known how to handle a gun, much less Trevor and the Mad Angels that had every intention of carrying her and Sally to a darker camp. It was Michael who knew how to fire the fatal shot, and as the cracking sound echoed in her brain, it was swiftly followed by his words when she practically begged for his continued protection.

Always. Forever.

Lily fell back to her side, and her fingers traced the lines of his sleeping face. Held deep in the bosom of sleep, it was nothing to mistake him for an angel. His cheeks were firm and fine, and a warm stream of sensuous air passed through his parted lips. She rested her fingers there, and she was on the verge of kissing him to consciousness. The need to feel him throbbing inside her again trumped any doubts or memories of her past life, but she stopped short of pressing her mouth to his.

She liked watching him sleep. She liked looking at him; period. No. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not when the Mad Angels might come back at any second in search of a pound or more of his flesh. If Dan was really out there, if her family somehow found her… Lily would deal with that then.

But for now…

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and Lily bit down on her lip at the return of his blue gaze. As the realization of her presence seemed to register in his mind, Lily’s mouth curved into a smile, and she delicately brought her hands to his face.

“You’re up,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Reaching for her hand, Michael took her hand and clutched it tightly. She sighed at the feel of his palm pressing into hers, and Michael simply tightened his hold as he dragged her fingers closer to the smooth lines of his chest.

“What were you doing?” he asked. “Were you watching me?”

Lily nodded into his skin and nuzzled her nose against his pecs.

“You looked so good,” she confessed in a muffled voice. “I like it.”

“Do you?” he asked. “Is that all you like?”

He pushed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his. The warmth lingered in his eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair and brought his lips to her eyes. Her eyelids shut as she absorbed the heat of his soft kisses, and when she could see again, his face seemed harder. The shift should have scared her. There was a time not so long in the past when it nearly did. But now, as she shook her head and grazed her fingers down his hard sides, her hands finding hip muscles that protruded from the place so near to his tight abs, she peered at him and cuddled closer to his body.

“I like other things,” she confessed in a whisper. “Lots of other things.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, the call to rise bubbling across his tongue. Lily’s hand drifted down his thighs, and she found his cock primed and poised to tear into her wet and waiting flesh. Michael pushed her into the sheets, and he pressed his knees to her thighs as the tip of his hard cock teased the edges of her expectant mound.

“Beg me.”

Lily let out a light laugh, and danced her nails up his arms. “Are we doing that again?”

She started to take his hands in hers when Michael seized her wrists and pushed her back into the bed. Gasping at the feel of his hands capturing were she lay, she was forced into his stare, and Michael held her fast as he poised his cock on the precipice of her pussy.

“If it’s what I want, then yes,” he said. “Say the words, Lily.”

She needed the feel of him back inside her. God help her. But Lily pushed her lips together and stayed silent.

“So you’re still playing it like that?” he asked. “Come on, Lily.”

He pushed close to her neck, and Lily stretched forward to meet the feel of his mouth. She longed for him just take her in his arms. But Michael kept Lily entrapped in his hands, and she was unable to suppress a whimper as he licked her naval and narrowed his gaze to her captive eyes.

“We can play games,” Michael said. “Truth be told, I like having fun with you.”

It sounded crude, but when he followed his words with a soft kiss to her breasts, Lily moaned around the feel of his lips, and she arched her body closer to his mouth.

“I get that,” Lily said. “So—”

Michael flipped her to her back. For a second, she shuddered at the thought that she could no longer read his face and hope for even a hint of his intentions. And yet, the not knowing sent a wave of anticipation coursing through her veins.

How can I really be this girl? I should fight and scream and do everything for my freedom.

But she wanted something far sweeter.

Clutching the sheets in her shaking hands, Lily sighed softly as he spread her thighs. Lily’s entire body trembled, but she didn’t wither away as he pushed his way closer to her soft flesh. Her body lifted off the bed to savor the length of his cock. Any thought of fighting back vanished with a moan as he settled inside her, and she longed to stroke his face as he began a strong, smooth pulse.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said.

“I…”

She bit down on her lip and choked back her need. He didn’t have to ask; the quivering of her flesh should be enough. Lily stretched her body off the bed and felt his cock moving deeper into her cunt, and she managed to reach back and curl her arms around his neck.

“Say the words, Lily.”

She drew his face closer to hers. Michael sank into her lips, and as their mouths parted, there was a light in his eyes. He wanted to take her, and she saw his need. She felt it pulsing between her thighs. But when she tried to kiss him again, he turned her eyes away from, his hips wildly rocking against her back as he gripped her sides and dragged her closer. Lily hung her head as his lips met her back. His kisses were hard as he lapped at her skin, and she tried to reach for him again when he seized hold of her wrists and swiftly pressed her back to the bed.

“Michael, I—”

“No.” he said. “Don’t touch. Just feel, Lily.”

Michael wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her aching pussy closer to his cock. She savored the feel of her flesh encasing his throbbing length.

“Shit!” Lily said. “Why can’t I?”

“Because it’s what I want.”

“What about what I—”

“You want this, too,” he said. “Don’t think you fool me.”

His hands furiously explored every inch of her blazing body. She curved towards each touch only to find it gone before she could touch any part of him. The throb of his cock intensified as he kneaded her flesh. Her eyes rolled back as he pushed past her essence and grinded his fingers to her middle.

“You want this,” he moaned into her ear. “You need this. Keep coming.”

Lily sighed as she pressed her palms to the bed she grazed her nails against rumpled sheets. The frustration of not being able to rake her fingers over the rippling muscles pounding and stroking her from behind was suddenly replaced by the echo of his order ringing in her ears.

Just feel, Lily .

Slowly, she lifted her body off the bed, nearly expecting him to growl and grip her hair, maybe force her head to the pillows until she had to struggle for air. But Michael did not deny her, and she felt his smile as he pushed his face to her back.

“That’s it,” he whispered as he dragged his lips closer to her ear. “Stay with me now.”

Like I have a choice. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t—

Michael cupped her breasts in his hands. His caress was tender as his cock pounded into her to the point where she thought she would shatter in his hold.

“Do you feel that?” he purred as he slowed the pursuit between her legs. For a second, Lily could do nothing but bask in the feel of his fingers as they swirled around her hard nipples. But soon her cunt mourned the loss of his driving shaft, and she summoned all the strength could find and dared to let her hair fall against his chest. She took some comfort in the ends of her long brown strands spilling across his skin. She wanted to touch him there, to cling to his neck and rest her face to his shoulder.

But more than that…

“I… I do,” she choked out. “But… but…”

Her tongue tied in her mouth, and she pushed back against his length, hoping to make him move. Michael’s hands kept circling around her soft flesh, but his cock stayed still.

“It might hurt,” he said as he brought his lips to her ear again. “Do you want that?”

“I …”

The thought of staying like this if she took too long to answer and the possibility that we would simply pull out until she collapsed in a mass of anguished moans at the loss of him, and even the pain, was more than she could contemplate.

“Yes.” Her voice was thick but sure. “Take me.”

Michael waited for what felt like an eternity, his hands still gentle as he played around her breasts. Lily was on the verge of screaming, of begging, when his cock started to rock around her again, and she gasped her relief and anticipation in a single, exhilarated breath.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please… please…”

Pushing his way to what felt like the core of her soul, Michael shortened the spaces between his throbs. Lily clenched his flesh to keep him closer longer, to tempt him to move deeper. Her cunt burned around him, but she felt no pain. It was as if her body was a fire in need of more kindling, wanting only to burn with greater intensity until it scorched her in a storm of that would consume them both.

“Michael…” she moaned. “More. More.”

He wrapped his arm around her neck, but despite the heaving of her chest, she was able to breathe as his free hand moved down her side, and he gripped her ass as he pushed her closer for the final thrust.

“Oh God…”

Michael exploded inside her—fire burning around fire—and Lily moaned as she stretched her body back, knees shaking as she clung to his chest. No pain, and no fear of falling. Her cunt grew tighter as she tried to drain every drop of his essence. When he felt satisfied and when she was nothing but, they fell into the bed together, his hands still on her breasts as he sighed into her ear.

“Isn’t that better than just looking at me?” he teased.

She fought through the haze of their climax, and when she nodded, Michael pulled his cock from her body. She was too weak to whimper, but when he turned her eyes to his, she smiled even as his face stayed blank.

“Much better,” she said.

Michael seemed to study her face as Lily’s body started to relax in her arms. She tried to speak again, to tell him more, but when he finally smiled down at her, she bit down on her lip and waited without a word.

“That’s all I need to hear,” he said.

His arms enveloped her, and as their mouths met in a kiss, Lily was desperate to touch him, to hold him. But she suddenly couldn’t make a move without his permission. Should she ask if it was allowed?

“Put your hands on me,” Michael commanded.

Taking orders never felt so good.

And neither did him.

Lily gripped his arms and pressed her cheek to his smooth chest. His assorted ink seemed to sigh under her hands, and she carefully reached for his back. The lines of his scars came to light under the tips of her fingers. She did not push down, and Michael did not resist as she traced the marks that were not of his choosing. She wanted to ask him how? Why? Who?

But it could wait. Everything could wait. Right now…

“Michael…”

Curling her arms around his neck, Lily clung to him and dotted his shoulders with soft kisses. It felt strange. Even as her cunt still burned from the passion of the most desired attack, she smiled at this tender moment in his arms. Michael offered no objections and gave no demands; he simply let her lips shower his flesh, and when Lily stretched up the length of his lean frame and found his face again, their eyes locked, and she spoke slowly.

“I’ve never… I’ve never felt anything like this before,” she started. “I don’t know why, but—”

“Then don’t question it.”

Command slipped into his voice as easily as he’d slid into her, and Lily lowered his eyes as he pushed his lips to her hair, kissing her damp strands. She wouldn’t. Not now. Maybe never. This was more than anything Dan or any man had made her feel. And she wondered…

“You?” she asked.

“What are you talking about?”

Michael’s face darkened as his arms started to tighten around her body. The pain now was different, like he was trying to scare her into silence. But Lily’s curiosity fought past her fear, her curiosity piqued, and she licked her lips before she spoke again.

“Have you ever felt like this before?” she asked. “With anyone else?”

A strange light flickered across his eyes, and Lily strained closer to his chest as she tried to discern the meaning of his new stare. There was something. Something that he was not telling her. Feeling the pain coming off of him in waves, she tried to draw him closer when Michael pushed back and rolled to the side of the bed.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he said. “We’re here. And it’s now. That’s all that matters.”

A part of Lily could almost take that and just kiss him again. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have her own secrets. But as his tortured eyes drifted towards the ceiling, Lily couldn’t resist the need to know his torment. If he told her, she would listen. If he permitted it, she would soothe any anguish lingering around his soul.

“Michael?”

She shifted closer to his side and tried to touch his face.

“Whatever it is,” she started, “you can tell me. I want to—”

“I don’t!”

His voice became a growl as he leapt from the bed and pulled his jeans over his tight limbs. Lily sighed as soon as he concealed his flesh from her view, but her mind raced with all the possibilities for his sudden change of mood. How could he go from hot to cold in the space of single second?

“Michael?”

The icy stare pouring through his eyes stilled her as she started to stretch way from the bed. He snarled lightly as she started to press the point, and she quickly let the argument drop when she saw both fury and torment in his eyes.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“You’re not here so we can talk. That’s not what I paid for.”

She had felt like a lover in his arms. She felt valued when he killed for her. But at the end of the day or the beginning of this night, Lily reminded herself that there was truth to what he said. She was just his property, his to do with as he pleased. Maybe he would even unload her at the first chance if the price was right. The thought of falling into anyone else’s arms filled her with dread, and Lily curled back to the bed, clutching the pillow where his head had rested in despair. Even as she inhaled his faint scent, it felt like he was already gone, maybe never coming back. Lily closed her eyes and felt hot tears forming behind her eyelids when the bed shifted and she turned her head over her shoulder.

“Hey.”

His voice was as flat as his eyes when he spoke to her, but Michael pressed his fingers under her chin, and when a stray tear fell from her cheek, he moved quickly to wipe it away.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered. “Last thing I want is to see you cry.”

Choking back her sobs, Lily sat up straighter, and her eyes widened when Michael took his hand in hers. His finger curled around her wrist, his hold strangely soft as it grazed her flesh. Daring to meet his eyes, she relaxed as his stare softened.

“I want you to be mine,” he whispered. “All mine. And if… shit.”

He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into a desperate kiss. Lily savored the taste of his lips around hers, and as his tongue twirled down her throat, she stretched forward to kiss him deeper, drowning in her addiction of feeling any part of him inside her.

“No…”

She moaned as their mouths parted, but Michael wrapped his arms around her bare shoulders and pressed his brow to hers.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he promised. “You just have to…”

Michael’s voice trailed off, and Lily took his hand in hers as she waited without breathing for him to finish his thought.

“You just have to trust me.”

She shouldn’t. How could she trust a man that had paid money to make her his? She was far from an unwilling captive, but it was the last thing that she would ever have chosen of her own free will.

But there was no free will when he stared at her hard and clutched her hand tighter.

“I… I do,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

Michael smiled and pulled her closer.

“That’s good,” he said. “Because you can. You always can.”

He kissed her again, and Lily’s hands moved down his side. She started to unzip his jeans when there was a loud rap on the door.

“What—?”

“Stay here.”

Michael left Lily’s side, and he reached for his gun as he took step closer to the door and leaned against the frame. He looked ready to shoot at anything or anyone that dared to enter the shack, and Lily held her breath as pulled the sheet closer to her body.

“Open up, Michael.”

The sound of Ken’s voice from the other side of the door caused them both to heave a sigh of relief. Michael shot Lily a look that calmed her further, and he pushed his gun into his waist as he flung the door open.

“You dreaming the night away or… oh.”

As soon as he saw Lily’s body curled under the sheets, Ken smiled faintly and gave her a quick nod.

“Keeping him happy, honey?” Ken asked.

If it was one of the others, she might have gone back to doubting if she truly wanted this to be her fate. But Ken was sweet. And he took care of Sally. Lily lowered her head and smiled shyly.

“Trying to,” she confessed.

Ken smiled, but then his face went dark as he turned his gaze back to Michael.

“Sorry to spoil the party,” Ken started. “But we need to talk. Now.”

“What’s up?” Michael asked.

Lily inched towards the edge of the bed, wanting nothing more than to be let in on the secret. If Michael was in any kind of danger, Lily wanted to help him if she could.

What is he doing to me?

Ken appeared to catch sight of her out of the corner of his eye, but then he centered his stare back to Michael.

“Club business,” Ken said. “Put a shirt on and move front and center.”

Michael briefly looked back at Lily, and she saw the worry flashing across his eyes. If he didn’t want to see her sad, then the last thing that she wanted was to see him scared. The stance didn’t suit him. Lily started to drop the sheet and move her body from the bed when Michael waved her off and pulled his body into a tight tee.

“What’s happening?” Lily asked. “What—?”

“None of your concern,” Michael said. “We’re handling it.”

He was nearly out the door, his knuckles cracking together as he trailed after Ken when Michael suddenly stopped and turned back to face her. Stepping back to the bed, he grabbed her face and turned her cheeks around his fingers.

“Stay here,” he whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

Lily’s mouth was ready to receive his kiss, but he denied her. Probably because Ken still lingered in the doorway. He simply tugged on a fallen lock of her hair and flashed her a smile.

“Hang tight,” he said. “Keep the bed warm.”

Slapping Ken’s back, he shut the door and was gone. Sighing into the sheets, Lily collapsed to the bed, her body still humming, and a part of her wanted to do nothing but honor his request. She could wait. She should wait. Her last attempt at moving through the camp with no cover under the mark of night had nearly meant her end. And it brought fresh blood to Michael’s hands. Holding herself closely, she took several deep breaths and told herself that she could do this. She had to.

What if…

Letting the sheet fall, her bare body shivered at the draft passing through the shuddered windows, and she reached what might be a fatal decision.

Leaping off the bed, she retrieved the faded paisley dress that had been a gift from Sophia’s hands. Slipping it over her head, ignoring the need for any bra or panties, she pushed her arms through a ratty sweater and stepped into a pair of faded sneakers. The whore costume, Michael’s first, strange gift to her still lingered in the corner, but the chill of the desert night required greater cover.

When he came back to her, maybe…

Lily pressed he ear to the door, and she heard the club slithering towards the big tent where they congregated to form their plans and take their meals. As the voices dulled behind the unseen fabric, Lily turned the handle and stepped out into night.

Moving softly, slowly, Lily‘s eyes darted in every direction. The parked bikes were as cold as the night air and the sand swirled around her ankles as she kept stepping forward. Sophia had to be sleeping. Same thing for Sally. She pictured her stirring and Ken kissing her back to the bed before he headed out. Truth be told, Sally was better suited to be what Sophia called an old lady . She did as she was told and kept her man happy. Maybe Lily fulfilled the latter part of the bill, but her curiosity would not keep her in his bed.

“What the fuck!”

Lily blanched as she neared the flowing flap of the tent, and she ducked in the shadows. Falling to her bare knees, she held her breath and cocked her ear closer to the flapping folds.

“Michael, I—”

“We buried the bastard deep,” Ken started. “But Trevor’s making trouble. Like you didn’t know that he would.”

Lily bit down on her lip as Michael spoke again.

“So let him bring it!” Michael said. “What? Think I can’t handle it?”

Her eyes found a small tear in the canvas, and Lily saw Michael fuming. Two Diesel Devils held him back, the big one known as Wesley and the kid that known to the club as Brendan. Michael struggled in their grasp, and Ken held his ground as he pressed his palm to the air.

“Didn’t say that,” Ken cautioned. “Why don’t you—?”

“Trevor was after your girl, too,” Michael challenged. “And what? You like the idea of them tying her down and slashing her open?”

Ken clenched his fist, and Lily gripped the edge of the tent as she watched him seethe. Smaller than Michael, Lily still had no doubt that Ken could take him if Michael pushed his luck.

“Not happening,” Ken said. “Not on my watch.”

He snapped his fingers, and Michael relaxed as his boys pressed him into a hard-backed chair. She could see Michael shaking with rage even as he bowed his head and tried to appear contrite.

“Sure,” Michael muttered. “No one’s touching your girl.”

He raised his eyes, and his lips curled into a strong smile.

“Or mine,” he said. “I’ll kill anyone that tries to touch her.”

From her hiding place, Lily’s body went limp as she absorbed his words. She shouldn’t need a man to keep her safe; her recent captivity aside, she could take care of herself. But she smiled at the idea that Michael would shoot first and ask questions late if he saw that she was in harm’s way. She was about to break the rule, push through the tent, and tell him that she had his back when Ken cracked opened a beer and spoke again before he sipped.

“Hear me out,” he started. “Total devil’s advocate shit.”

Michael clenched and unclenched his fists.

“I’m listening,” Michael said.

Ken took a deep drink and set the can aside. Turning a stray chair close to Michael, he sat heavily and ran his fingers through his silver hair.

“You could take off for a while,” Ken started. “Like go underground. Take your girl with you.”

Lily watched Michael’s face turn the color of slate as she allowed her mind to race around the possibility. She could almost picture herself on the back of his bike as she clung to his waist. Racing towards the unknown, Michael would find some quiet spot. For a time, they could live there. She would live within and around him a place where no one would ever find him. It didn’t seem like the worst fate, and she nearly moved forward to tell him that they could make it work together when Michael stomped the heel of his boot into the desert sand.

“I ain’t no fucking coward,” Michael said. “I stand tall. I fight hard.”

As Ken nodded, Lily hung her head. She would never have suspected anything less of him. Part of her wanted to see him ride out the storm and bask in what would have to be his moment of triumph.

“Duly noted,” Ken said. “But there are other problems.”

Michael shifted in his seat, and Lily crawled closer to the slit in the tent as she strained to hear whatever Ken would say next.

“It’s about Lily,” he said.

She cringed, and Michael stretched to the edge of his chair.

“What about her?” Michael challenged.

Ken sighed. Leader or not, Lily could sense Michael wanting to take Ken’s throat in his hands. Somehow, he held back and just listened.

So did Lily, he ears wide open.

“People are looking for her,” Ken said. “Guess it’s her family or whatever. We can only keep the locals off the scent for so long.”

As she watched Ken tense, Lily felt as if everything started and stopped all at once. The cavalry was on their way. Was Dan leading the charge? What would she do if she came face-to-face with him again? Before lying with Michael, she felt sure that she would have just held him and felt some sense of safety in the space of his arms.

But now?

“So we gotta be practical about this,” Ken continued. “If the heat’s on, it’s on us. And we can’t risk them finding—”

Michael was on his feet, and he finally grabbed Ken by his throat as he slammed him into the floor. Wesley and Brendan worked like mad to drag him from Ken’s side, but Michael’s grip was too hard to be ignored.

“I’m not giving her up!” Michael bellowed. “I need her. I—”

His words caught in his throat when Ken kicked him hard between his legs. Michael doubled back, and Lily pressed her hands to her mouth to suppress the scream bubbling in her throat.

“Son of a fucking…”

Michael was back on his feet in an instant, his fists ready for a fresh fight.

No. I can’t let him do this. Not to his own. Not because of me.

Lily was ready to press her way into the tent when Ken stunned her as he leapt to his feet. His size and his apparent age suggested that he’d be at least a little rattled by Michael’s assault in spite of his own low blow. But Ken hopped from foot to foot and raised his fists as he glared at Michael.

“Let’s get one thing straight right now, kid,” he said. “I’m in charge here. And if you say she’s yours, she’s yours. I’m not going challenge that.”

Lily heaved a sigh of relief that intensified when she saw Michael’s firm body sag. It might still be alright. It might—

“But when they find out where she is and who she’s with, it all goes south,” Ken promised.

Fear iced Lily’s heart. Her first thought was for Michael. For Sally and the others. And this was not their day of reckoning. It was hers.

“So they won’t find us,” Michael said. “We’ll keep them hidden.”

“Michael, we—”

“What happens to your sweet thing if it all comes out?” Michael challenged. “From what Lily tells me, her life was more nightmare than anything else. Like you’re just going to send her back to—”

Ken landed a square punch right in Michael’s jaw, sending him to the ground. Michael held his face as he glared back up.

“Cut right to the point, didn’t you?” Ken said. “I am never sending her back.”

Michael propped his body up of his elbows and spoke through the blood bubbling from his lips.

“And Lily?” Michael asked. “What about her?”

“Well I’ve been giving that some thought,” Ken said. “You might not like it, but—”

Pressing her hands to her ears, Lily couldn’t stand to listen to one more word. Michael had her back; he had every part of her. But for Ken, it came down to Sally and the club. And if Lily was in the way…

Leaving the shadows just beyond the tent, she ran across the shaking sands and pressed her sweater closer to her body. Here it was. Her people were getting close to finding her. Should she hang close to Michael and hope that he could protect her? She believed that he could. But maybe it would be better for all of them if she gave herself up and returned to her old life. She could spin the story. Lily could even tell the tale of the auction and never mention one Diesel Devil’s name. The thought of having to leave him nearly tore her apart, but this, whatever this was, there was no way that it was going to last. As much as she wanted it to.

“Michael…”

His name passed across her tongue, and Lily spied his shack in the distance, not realizing how far she had trekked through the sand. But it was there. So was his bed. She could go back there and let him take her one more time. Lily imagined the chance to truly hold him. But she would. Even if it was the last time. Come morning, she’d have to find her way out of camp and never see him again. Should she just run now despite whatever dangers lurked in the darkness?

No. I have to touch him… I have to feel him one more time.

Moving back to camp, Lily held her breath and shuddered at the sound of a chopper racing across the sands. Frozen in the headlights, she saw a burly form perched atop his bike. When the moonlight hit his eyes, she shuddered.

The bike suddenly whizzed past her. Lily nearly relaxed when she saw the snarling angel pressed into the leather crossing his back.

Mad Angel.

Lily trembled and broke into a wild run. As she kicked sand into the air, the Diesel Devils’ camp came closer into view, and Lily intensified her pace. She saw no one. The boys were still in the big tent. Her lips parted to call out Michael’s name when the strange bike spun to a stop before her, and she fell back on her heels, looking into a burly man’s face.

His head was shaggy, and his lips curled into a leer. The man looked like he could crush her with one harsh hold, and he kicked his bike aside as he stepped to the sand and moved towards her.

“No!” Lily screamed. “Don’t you—”

She started to turn and break into a fresh run when hard hands seized her shoulders. Lily squealed as the biker brought her close to his chest, ad she tried to call out again when a clammy hand clamped against her mouth, and she felt the tip of a knife pushing into her throat.

“You’re coming with me,” he said. “Time for you to have some real fun.”

Lily went limp as he dragged her back to his bike. When he pushed her against the handlebars, Lily tensed and tried to will her body to be anywhere else.

“Trevor said he fought hard for you,” the biker said. “Want to give me a show before I get you where you need to go?”

He kept the knife to her throat as his free hand reached under her skirt. Deprived of her panties, Lily cringed when he fingered the space that Michael had so recently sanctified.

“Tight,” the biker hissed. “Feels like you’ll be a hell of a fuck.”

Lily whimpered as he touched her. Despite knife and the fear that he would slash her neck from ear-to-ear, a voice from the pit of her soul struggled to work its way across her tongue. If Michael heard her, he would come.

“Leave me…!”

He hit her gut hard, and Lily slumped into his cold arms.

“Mighty fine,” the biker hissed. He curled his other arm around in her quivering middle, his fingers kneading through the thin fabric of her dress. The man moaned into her neck, and Lily stayed still as the blade drifted towards her neck. Would he cut her there? She could already feel the blood pouring from her body, but she felt certain that she would survive. She slowly raised her leg and slammed her heel into his shin. The biker fell away from her, crying out in pain. Taking a few steps forward, she started to call out Michael’s name when she felt hard hands tugging at her hair.

“Fucking bitch!”

Lily groaned as the man whipped her around, and before she could scream, a fist slammed into her face.

And everything went black.

Lily’s eyes fluttered open as a motor roared under her legs and the desert sand swirled around her ankles. The road ahead was dark and cold, but as the memory of what had happened to her flooded back in full force, she imagined Michael somehow hearing her cry, racing to her rescue, and bringing her back to camp. The thought brought a small smile to her lips, but as she leaned back and felt a pair of slimy lips pressing into her neck, she knew that she still wasn’t safe.

“Someone’s up,” the biker said as he pulled her closer and buried his nose in her windswept hair.

“Let me go!” Lily cried as she squirmed in his hold. “Get off of me you son of a—”

“Hey!” the biker ordered as his hold tightened, and his teeth met her ear.

“I can let you go,” he hissed. “Drop your ass right here and now. At this speed, bet you’ll get pretty banged up.”

Lily lowered his eyes to the ground racing beneath her feet. Her abductor had a point, but the thought of a few bruises was preferable to staying in his vile arms.

“Do it,” Lily whispered.

The biker tossed his head back with a cruel laugh and howled into the night air.

“Not when I back up and run my wheels over your skank ass,” he said. “Think you’ll walk away from that, cunt?”

His threat cut her to the core, and Lily reluctantly went limp in his arms. If she was going to get out of this, she had to play along, see where he was taking her.

And look for a way out at the first chance.

“That’s better, bitch,” he said. “Now sit back and enjoy the ride.”

The bike accelerated, and Lily closed her eyes tightly as the cold air pierced her cheeks. Michael had to have made his way back to his bed by now. When he saw her gone, she pictured him springing into immediate action, rounding up his boys, and taking off in hot pursuit. Would he see the tracks that this maniac was tearing into the sand? She strained her ears for the sound of revving motors in the distance, moving closer even as this monster tried to carry her away from his side. Thinking, believing that she could truly hear him coming for her, Lily dared to shift her head past the biker’s brutal arm, looking back, her eyes wide and her heart full of weak hope.

Please, Michael. Please…

Nothing. No one. He wasn’t coming.

“Eyes front!” the biker barked as he jerked her head forward. Lily had no choice to obey the force of his hand, and she hung her head as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he biker said. “Whatever he’s been doing to you, I’ll do you to ten better.”

He pressed his free hand to her flesh and fingered her cunt. The feel of his hands on her body made her want to wretch, and Lily longed to find the power to tear his heart out, push him off the bike. Given the chance, she would follow through on his threat and mow him into the sand. But she kept still as he fondled her roughly, his rank breath pouring down the back of her neck.

“You, me, and the boys,” he hissed.

As her mind flashed back to the emblem on his jacket, the bike made a sharp turn, and Lily sat up straighter, hating the feel of falling closer to his chest. The biker laughed again and touched his filthy fingers to her lips.

“Get ‘em ready, cunt,” he said. “Your hot little mouth’s gonna be working overtime.”

His hands moved under her skirt again, and Lily moaned as his fingers grazed against her slit.

“Other parts of you, too,” he said. “Fun’s about to start right now.”

The bike came to a slow stop, and Lily squinted at the sight of a rundown metal shed surrounded by a fleet of choppers. Had Trevor won her at the auction, had Ken kicked him a curb without giving her a second thought, this was where she would have languished in a far darker captivity than what she had known with Michael.

What she loved with Michael.

“Home sweet home,” the biker hissed as he pulled her off his bike. Wrenching her arms behind her back, he started pushing her closer towards the door. He kicked the heel of his boot to the surface and let loose a shrill whistle.

“Party’s here!” he cried.

The door was flung open, and Lily gasped at the sight of Trevor Carr glaring over a smirk.

“Long time no see,” Trevor said. “Have fun with Randy here?”

Randy nodded as he groaned into her neck.

“She’s a little hellcat,” Randy said. “Can’t wait to break her in proper.”

The light in Trevor’s eyes suggested that he was on the same page, but he cracked his knuckles and curled his hands behind his head. Looking past her, he focused on his fellow crew member.

“Any trouble getting her out of camp?” Trevor asked.

“No sweat,” Randy said. “Found her out for a little moonlight stroll.”

Trevor cocked his head.

“Getting bored, princess?” Trevor curled his finger under her chin.

Fighting to ignore the fingers pressing into her arms, she stared hard at Trevor and spit in his face.

“Easy, bitch!” Randy said as he gripped her arms tighter. Lily winced, but she held her ground as Trevor wiped his damp face with the back of his hand and stretched closer to her flushed face.

“Guess Michael isn’t teaching you a hell of a lot,” Trevor said. “We’ll have to work of fixing that. Come on in, little girl.”

Lily gritted he teeth as she was pressed deeper into the dark building. Her eyes darted in every direction as the narrow walls of the corridor closed in around her like a coffin, and she fought to calm her frantic breath with every step into the unknown. Trevor pushed open another door, and pushed her to the rough, concrete floor. Her palms ached on impact, and she struggled to lift her head.

“This her?” a cold whisper asked.

“Yeah,” Trevor said. “This is Michael’s bitch.”

Pushing her fallen hair from her face, Lily saw a mustachioed man with wavy hair staring down at her with expressionless eyes. A crew of ten men flanked his sides, and as Lily’s eyes shifted from one leering face to another. She stopped at the sight of a man with long blonde hair. His sneer rivaled the others, and Lily fell back on her elbows and tried to crawl away from his harsh eyes.

“No,” Trevor said as he reached down and hauled her to her feet. “Didn’t bring you all this way so you could just turn around and leave us hanging.”

“Amen to that,” Randy said. “I can’t wait to—”

“Wait.”

The blonde stepped forward, as Randy’s hands were already at his belt. He stopped and Lily cowered as the blonde circled her fallen form, his eyes never leaving her body as he kept turning around her.

“Hear Michael Roberson killed someone for you,” the man started. “Truth to that?”

Lily held her tongue. If they were going to hang Michael, she might not be able to stop it. But there was no way that she was going to provide them the rope to hang her with.

The man stamped his boot to the floor. Lily shuddered as she stared up at him. His green eyes narrowed on her, and he crouched down to touch her face.

“I asked you a question.” he said.

When Lily stayed silent, he brought his hand back, ready to strike. She hid her face in her hands as Trevor plowed forward and pulled the blonde from her side.

“I already told you what happened!” Trevor bellowed. “And now I’ve made good on it. You want revenge, here she is, Bruce.”

Lily ‘s heart thudded in her chest as Bruce leered at her, and even as Trevor held him back, she felt the blonde ready to kill if given the chance.

“I wanted Roberson,” Bruce said. “Not whatever wet hole he wants to bury his dick in—”

“This’ll get him where it hurts,” Trevor promised. “Prick loves his fuck toys, and she’s his flavor of the month.”

Bruce shrugged Trevor off and glared down at her again.

“Hardly blood for blood,” Bruce said.

“Think about it,” Trevor said as he grabbed the blonde’s arm. “Fuck her bloody, then dump her at the side of their camp. Total lesson.”

Lily watched in total terror as Bruce’s dark gaze fixed on hers as he tilted his head to the side. A feeling of doom and despair crawled across her heart, and she held herself close in an effort to stop the trembles consuming her flesh.

“Might start a war.”

All eyes, Lily’s included, turned to the mustachioed man. He sauntered forward, and Lily still could not read his eyes as he peered down at her.

“Noel, I—”

“That’s enough out of you, Trevor.”

Trevor fell quiet. Noel moved to Bruce’s side and clasped his shoulders. “But you want a war, right?” he whispered.

Bruce nodded wildly, as Lily crawled back a few inches. She should have tried to run sooner. She should have gone as soon as Michael had fresh blood on her hands.

“Right?” Noel asked again.

“No doubt,” Bruce hissed.

Noel slapped his back and stepped closer to Lily.

“And the rest of you?” Noel asked his crew as he kept his blank gaze on his new captive. “Say we just have our way with her and whatever?”

An affirmative chorus rang through the air.

“So be it then,” Noel said.

Randy’s hands moved his to his belt again, but now Trevor and the others started to unspool the leather around their waists. The thought of a dozen cocks slamming into her filled her with fear. And if Michael wasn’t coming, she had to fight her way out on her own.

“No!” she screamed.

Scampering to her feet, she charged forward and raced for the door.

“Hold her!”

At the sound of Noel’s voice, Trevor and Randy grabbed her, their brutal arms trying to wrestle her to the ground.

“Get away from me, you fuckers!” Lily screamed.

She kicked their shins and clawed at their leering faces. As Trevor’s jacket started to fall away from his chest, she spied his gun poking out of its holster.

This is my chance. My only chance.

Reaching forward, she got her hands on the gun and pulled it from his side. Her fingers fumbled around the butt for a few seconds, but when Randy started to lunge at her, she took aim and gritted her teeth.

“I’ll blow all your head off if you take one more step!” Lily screamed.

The feel of a trigger under her finger was foreign, but Lily felt sure that she could fire if she had to.

“Maybe Michael did teach you something,” Trevor teased as he straightened up. Despite his playful tone, she could see the rage in his eyes at the fact that she had gotten the best of him once again.

“He taught me lots of things,” Lily said. “I’m his girl. And you won’t have a war if you hurt me. It’ll be the end of all of you.”

The Mad Angels laughed as Trevor fumed and Bruce glowered. But Noel took a step forward and pressed his hand to the air, silencing his men.

“You talk a good game,” Noel said.

Even as her hands shook, she took aim at his chest as he drew closer.

“I can do more than talk,” Lily said.

What if I really have to shoot him? What will it feel like? Can I really—?

“Fair enough,” Noel said as he shrugged his shoulders. “But would you be so kind as to give your boy a message from us with those pretty lips of yours?”

Lily was almost at the door when she stopped where she stood and nodded slowly, the gun still in her hands. As she waited for Noel to speak again, he suddenly lunged, his eyes finally flashing a million emotions. His hands seized her wrists, and even as she tried to keep the gun in her hands, he turned her back to his chest and got the gun from her grip. Trevor and Randy cheered as Bruce snarled, and Lily moaned and kicked, her thrashing only stopping when Noel pressed the gun to her temple.

“Tell him that he’s fucked up for the last time,” Noel said. “Too bad for him. Worse for you.”

Noel pushed her into Bruce’s arms, and Lily screamed as he held her in his grip.

“Much worse,” Bruce said. “You really his girl?”

Lily managed to nod, and Bruce scoffed as he dragged her towards a dark corner. At the sound of his belt coming loose, her body tensed at the thought that he would take her with force, and she instinctively clenched her muscles in the hope of fighting back the impending assault.

“Wait!” she screamed. “What are you—?”

He shackled her hands to a hook hanging from the ceiling, and Sophia’s voice echoed in her brain.

Got their rocks off by cutting into their girls’ skin with razors. Kind of makes you wish for a tap and just be done with it.

“No!” Lily screamed. “Don’t cut me! Don’t—!”

She was silent as his belt curled around her throat, and she gasped for air.

“Knife not good enough for you,” he said. “Know those scars on your boy’s back?”

Lily nodded through the tears forming in her eyes, and Bruce released her neck as he slapped his buckle to the hard floor.

“Gonna give you a matching set,” Bruce promised.

Struggling to free her wrists from the metal keeping her bound in place, her chest heaving as he tore her dress down the back. Her back tensed as the cold air hit her back, and she slammed her eyes shut, fearing the coming pain when a crash of footsteps and shouts burst into the room. Lily couldn’t look. It had to be another dream, and she couldn’t stand another—

“Cut her down.”

Michael?

Daring to look, Lily’s heart lightened when she saw Michael bare-chested, the leather covering his arms as his limbs rested in tight jeans. His gun was drawn, and Ken and the Diesel Devils were at his back as the club spread out and pointed their guns at every enemy they could find. Lily’s eyes briefly met Michael’s, and she thought she saw the fury in his eyes mingling with desperate concern. She tried to smile, tried to tell him that she was really alright.

But Michael shifted his gaze to Bruce and the belt still in his hands.

“Drop it,” Michael said, his voice hard and thick.

“Why?” Bruce challenged as he left Lily’s side. “You gonna do me like you did my brother?”

Michael cocked his gun.

“I might.” Michael said.

Bruce showed no sign of fear as he crushed the buckle of his belt to the ground again, and Lily bit down on her lip in fear of the impending blows. She pictured the skin peeling from her flesh in sharp slices, and Bruce’s breath was on her back again when he stopped.

“I’ll even bury you in the same grave,” Michael promised. “You can rot with him.”

As he dropped the belt, Lily started to relax despite her chains, but Bruce suddenly plowed forward, his shoulders curled as his head slammed into Michael’s chest.

“Michael!” she screamed.

He kept his hands on his gun as Bruce started to rain blows on his broad chest. Every punch caused her to wince, but soon Michael got the better of him. Pressing his body between his hard thighs, Michael trapped Bruce’s fuming body on the ground, and he pressed the barrel of the gun to his temple when Noel released a shrill whistle.

“Enough!” Noel said. “Game’s up!”

Michael was slow to leave Bruce’s fallen form, but when Ken snapped his fingers, Michael was off the ground. Bruce groaned as Randy helped him to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—?”

“Let him unlatch her,” Noel said.

“But I was—”

“You questioning me?”

Michael tightened his grip on his gun, and he aimed it at the others as he moved to Lily’s side. Casting a quick glance at the hook and the chains holding her in place, he freed her from her bonds. At the first taste of freedom, her body went limp, and Michael surrounded her body with his free arm and dragged his lips to her ear.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered. “I got you now.”

Lily looked up from his chest, and when she saw the sad smile crossing his lips, Lily returned his grin and nodded her head.

“I knew you’d come,” she murmured. “I just knew—”

Noel charged forward, and Lily cried as she reached for his falling form. He pulled a knife from his boot and pressed it to the vein throbbing in Michael’s neck.

“What about it?” Noel challenged the other Diesel Devils.

“Let him—”

“Stop cutting for him, Ken,” Noel cautioned. “I’ll slice him up soon enough.”

Ken silently ordered his men to stand down. Lily’s breath intensified in her chest as Noel forced Michael to his knees.

“You really think we’d just let you take her and run?” Bruce challenged.

“No. We’re gonna do a lot better than that,” Trevor said with a smirk.

Noel seemed to ignore the action swirling around him as he danced the blade across Michael’s sweating face.

“You know,” he started, “hothead like you should’ve met his maker long ago.”

Michael glared over his captured shoulder, his stare abandoning the sharp edge of the knife as he met Noel’s stare.

“You had your chance,” Michael hissed. “You couldn’t do it then.”

“No,” Noel confessed. “More fun to let you stew in your own shit.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said. “Total pussy move.”

Michael’s eyes went wild as he lunged for Trevor, but Noel kept him in his grasp drew the blade nearer to his skin.

“Cut this shit out!” Ken said. “We’re not—”

“No you’re not,” Noel said. “And you never were. Big brother? Born leader? No doubt little Leo is rolling over in his grave.”

Ken’s face hardened, and as he raised his gun, Lily couldn’t help but notice the small tremble as his finger curled around the trigger.

Noel tightened his grip.

“I’ll bleed him out right here,” Noel promised as he brought the blade closer to Michael’s throat. “You gonna risk your right-hand man on a cunt?”

“You damn right he is,” Michael hissed.

“I don’t know about that,” Noel challenged. “Word on the sands is that this one’s gone weak in the nuts for his own piece of tail. How about that, Kenny boy?”

“You leave her—”

“Tell you what,” Noel said. “How about I gut your boy here, fuck the cunt senseless, and…”

Noel’s mustache lifted as his lips formed a cruel smile.

“Then we waste the rest of your crew and go get what’s left of your girls,” Noel said. “Sophia’s still a house, but I hear she can cook. And your little bitch can join this one.”

Lily’s heart caught in her throat as Noel gestured toward her, and Michael sneered against the threat of the blade.

“Never going to happen,” Michael said. Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw Bruce seething around every syllable that passed though Michael’s lips.

“And why is that?” Noel asked as he raked the edge of the blade across Michael’s skin.

“Because Ken’s gonna do you in right now,” Michael threatened.

Trevor laughed, and Noel pulled Michael closer to his chest as he stared hard at the head Diesel Devil.

“That a fact?” Noel asked. “You gonna do some King Kong shit and live to fight another day?”

When Ken stayed still, silent, Michael writhed in Noel’s grasp, and his ragged scream filled the room.

“Just fucking shoot him, Ken!” Michael called. “Take this prick out.”

Do it. Lily urged silently. Get us home.

Home.

It was the first time that her mind, her soul, any part of her deigned to define camp that way. But now that she could see and smell the alternative, it was the only place where she wanted to be.

But Ken lowered his gun.

“What the hell are you doing, man?” Michael said. “Just—”

“At least he’s smarter than you,” Noel said. “But how hard is that?”

Noel shifted his dark eyes to Lily and signaled to his boys.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he said. “Let’s teach ‘em all a lesson right here and now.”

Lily cried out as Randy and Trevor shoved her body to the ground. She thrashed wildly as he arms were pinned, and Noel pushed Michael’s face to her side.

“We’re gonna let you watch,” Noel said.

“No fucking—!”

“Familiar, prick?”

Michael blanched as Noel lifted his blazing eyes to the Diesel Devils.

“Every last one of your sorry asses is gonna watch us whip her raw.”

Michael groaned as Noel pressed the blade closer to his throat, but Lily stayed in his gaze. As their eyes mingled, Lily remembered the fear of having her own neck sliced open. She told herself that she would take the beating.

But if something happened to Michael?

“Let them up.”

Ken’s voice crashed through the air. Lily’s body remained pressed to the ground as Noel brought Michael back to his knees, the blade still at his throat.

“What’d you say?” Noel challenged. “Gonna try to be a big man now. Think you can deal for them?”

“I—”

“What the hell can you even offer?” Noel said.

Lily held her breath as Ken pushed lowered his gun. She watched with wide eyes as he held his free hand out in surrender and spoke softly.

“We’ll pull up stakes,” Ken said. “Business running in and out of every town in these parts is yours.”

Trevor burst into laughter as he nudged Randy’s ribs.

“That’s all you got?” Trevor said with a smirk. “An empty promise? Like we’re just gonna let you and your boys and this slut walk out of here on your say so?”

Randy and the other Mad Angels joined in the chorus, and Lily shuddered at the sound. Michael’s lip curled over his clenched teeth and she saw him forming a hard fist.

“Michael!” she cried. “Don’t—”

“Who the fuck said that you could move?” Trevor bellowed as he slammed his boot into Michael’s side and sent him back to the ground, groaning in agony.

“No!” Lily screamed as she fought her captors hold and tried to take his face in her hands.

“Not so fast, slut!”

Trevor and Randy dragged her up from the floor. She screamed as the Mad Angels started to pull her across the room, and she winced when her body was slammed into the wall close to the hook. Her eyes fluttered as her gaze settled on the chains, and she scanned the room, biting down on her lip before she spoke.

“Go ahead,” she said in a soft whisper.

“No,” Michael moaned. “Lily, no! Don’t—”

“We won’t tell you again!” Bruce said as he kicked Michael again. Lily’s breath accelerated in her chest, and she fixed her eyes on his.

“You want blood?” she said. “Then do what you want with me.”

“Don’t you touch her!” Michael screamed as Noel kicked him again. Lily closed her eyes as Bruce’s breath ran down her face.

“It’s not near enough vengeance,” Bruce said. “But it’d be nice to see you bleed.”

Lily felt her body turned back to the dark corner, and she heard Michael screaming for them to stop. Her mind cried for Ken to do something . Her wrists were nearly back in the shackles when a gunshot fired into air. The room was awash in cries of confusion and fury. Several Mad Angels drew their side pieces, but Ken dropped his weapon. She saw Michael’s hungry eyes as the metal settled close to his side.

He had killed for her. She had no doubt that he would do it again.

“No more lies,” Ken said as he strode forward with his hands in the air, his eyes focusing on Trevor.

“And the only empty promise was bringing you into the fold,” Ken spat. “Good thing I corrected that.”

“Fuck you, old man.” Trevor started to charge forward when Noel pulled the knife from Michael’s face and pointed it in Ken’s direction.

“I’ll give this fucker one chance to speak sense,” Noel said. “Talk.”

Ken swallowed, and Lily watched his lips part slowly.

“We know when we’re beat,” Ken said. “And what Michael did… it was wrong.”

Michael groaned, and Lily slightly shook her head. Maybe it was a killing. But a crime?

No. Not when she saw these men for what they were.

“So… so we’ll head out,” Ken promised. “Whole territory’s yours.”

Noel appeared intrigued by the possibility, and Ken held his ground as Noel brought the blade to his cheek.

“And which hills are you fuckers heading to?” Noel challenged.

“Underground,” Ken said. “Deep and dark. Think about that, Noel. No more rivals. Everything just yours for the taking. Doesn’t that beat more blood?”

What the hell is he—?

“That it?” Noel asked.

Ken nodded under the blade. Noel stepped away from him and pushed the knife back into his pocket. He stared down at Michael and suddenly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

“And what about you, stud?” Noel asked. “You down with giving this corner up so for this cunt?”

Lily held her breath as Michael looked at her. She searched his face for some sign that he was in on Ken’s plan or at least understood it. But his eyes remained blank as his lips parted.

“If it’s what the boss wants,” he said.

Not the answer that she was hoping for.

Noel let him go, and paced between the clubs as he toyed with the blade in his hand. Lily wished that he would stumble, slip, somehow slice his own neck wide. But he just pushed the knife back into his pocket and folded his leather-clad arms across his chest.

“How soon can you ladies clear out?” Noel asked.

Ken started to speak when Bruce charged forward with flailing fists, his blows meant for Michael.

“No fucking way!” he bellowed. “You just gonna let them off with a pass? How the hell can—”

“Cool it, Bruce!” Noel glared at him.

“But—”

“I don’t like to repeat myself, boy.” Noel said. “You want your brother’s death to count for something? You want to be more than this pussy ass fucker that gives up his turf for a wet slit?”

Bruce started to speak again when Noel backhanded him. Lily had to smile at the sight of him crumbling him to the ground, but when her eyes met Michael’s, there was only rage in his stare.

He’s not down with this. What am I missing?

“Well?” Noel asked again.

Bruce seethed, and he looked to Trevor. Lily saw the bald man fuming as his best laid plans appeared to fall under his sweaty hands.

“You saw it go down,” Bruce said. “You think this is right?”

Trevor started to speak when Noel laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Careful, Carr,” he said. “If we turn you out, you ain’t getting too far with these pussies.”

Trevor looked at Lily, and she felt as if she was stripped to the skin under his leer. He looked as he had at the auction, but Lily stood taller as she met his cold gaze.

“Answer him,” she hissed.

He looked ready to strike her. Lily instinctively closed her eyes and readied her skin for the impending blow when she felt Trevor fall back, and she heard a furious sigh pass through his lips.

“It… it ain’t right,” Trevor started.

Lily cringed when his fingers met her face. His touch ran down her neck, but she didn’t flinch even as she could hear Michael groaning in frustration just a few feet away. She stared Trevor down, and when he wilted, she couldn’t suppress a smile. Trevor saw her grin, and she sensed that he thought about hitting her when he held back and turned to Bruce.

“But… but Noel makes sense,” he said.

“What the fuck are you—”

Trevor held Bruce back, and Lily strained to hear the whisper that poured into his ear.

“Better revenge in the long run,” Trevor said. “We’ll find other ways to make them pay.”

Bruce seemed to relax in Trevor’s hold, and his head shifted into a reluctant nod.

“Good!” Noel said. “Ain’t it grand when all the pieces come together?”

The Mad Angels laughed, but Lily relaxed when Michael grabbed her wrist and pushed her body behind his. She settled into his tight flesh, but Michael’s arms were cold as Noel turned to Ken and asked. “So we’re square, Kenny?”

Ken nodded slowly, and Noel bent down. Grabbing his rival’s gun, Noel was on the verge of handing it back when he kept it close to his thigh and smirked.

“Twenty-four hours,” he said. “Fuck it up, and we’re back to Plan A.”

As soon as he got his gun back in his hands, Ken nodded and signaled for his crew to follow him. Lily found Michael’s eyes for a second, but he just pulled her from the darkness, his eyes only on the way out.

“Michael?” she dared to ask as soon as soon as the night air hit her body, and Michael brought her back to his bike.

“Why did you run off?” he asked. “I told you to stay—”

“I… I wanted to know—”

“Well now you know,” he said.

Michael lifted her in his arms and placed her on the back of his bike. He mounted fast, and Lily dared to press her palms to his scars.

Gonna give you a matching set.

Lily trembled at the thought of how close she had come to the lash, and she pressed her cheek to his battered back and curled her arms around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But thank you. Thank you for coming for me.”

Michael revved up his bike, and he turned his head over his shoulder. The moonlight hit his face, and Lily longed to kiss his lips when he turned away from her and hit the pedal.

“What else was I supposed to do?”

His eyes left hers, and his body felt cold. Lily still clung to him as they raced across the sands, and she wondered what he meant and where they were going.

Twenty-four hours.

Michael didn’t speak. He didn’t look back at her. His body didn’t even curl into her touch. Sitting on the back of his bike, Lily dared to bring her lips close to his ear, and she whispered lightly.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you looked scared when you left.”

“Your eyes must have been playing tricks on you,” Michael said. “I don’t do scared.”

“I…”

Lily started to tell him that she knew what she saw when she was on the hook, when their bodies were pressed to the floor and the belt was about to tear into her skin. But she bit back these words as she kept her arms around his taut waist.

“I only wanted to help you,” she said. “That’s why I listened in.”

Michael’s shoulders shifted, and she expected his eyes, but he kept his gaze fixed on the way ahead.

“We had it under control, Lily,” he said. “And you shouldn’t have been so…”

Her body braced for the insult, but Michael held his tongue and just kept riding.

“So what?” she challenged. “What were you going to say?”

He slowed the motor, and as the bike idled under their bodies, he twisted his head ever so slightly, his eyes on the rubber, the sand.

Everywhere and anywhere but her face.

“It was a dumb thing to do,” he muttered. “You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“I know,” she said, her hands gently pressing into his disfigured back. She trembled at the thought that Bruce could have followed through on his promise.

Gonna give you a matching set…

“I—”

“So why do it?” he snapped, his fist pounding into his hard thigh as he kicked the toe of his boot into the ground. “Why didn’t you think? Why couldn’t you listen?”

“I said that I—”

“That doesn’t change anything,” he said.

Turning the key in the ignition, Michael left the bike and stepped away from her side. As she watched him move across the sand, Lily saw his back tensing with each step. Ken and the others kept riding towards the horizon, and she hopped off the bike and hurried to Michael’s side.

“I get it,” she said as soon as she caught up with him and managed to grab hold of his arm. “And now you’re… you’re giving so much up for me.”

Michael spun around to face her, and Lily bit down on her lip when she saw a small smirk cross his face.

“You have no idea,” he said.

“But I do,” she ventured as she tried to caress his face. Michael flinched under her touch and waved his hands in the air.

“Not by a fucking long shot,” he said.

Reaching into his pocket, he lit a cigarette and took a slow drag.

“What do you mean?” she asked as the smoke stung her eyes. Lily trembled where she stood, but she stayed in his eyes as she waited for him to speak.

“The decision was made before your little adventure,” he said. “Maybe if you’d stuck to eavesdropping, you would have known that.”

He pointed a sharp finger towards the bruise crossing her cheek. Leaning into his hand, Lily sensed him wanting to cradle her discolored flesh, but he suddenly pulled back and sucked on his smoke again.

“But I guess there’s just no stopping you,” he said.

“I… you said that my family was looking for me,” she started. “Said there might be trouble.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “How do you feel about that?”

Lily’s mind twisted with a million emotions, and when she was slow to speak, he snapped his fingers in her face and demanded her total attention.

“Answer the question.” he demanded. “What did you think you were doing? Thought you might meet some rescue party half way? Don’t lie to me.”

He started back towards his bike when Lily grabbed him again, her nails grinding into his arm.

“Wait!” she screamed.

Michael kept moving, and Lily’s feet made tracks in the sand as she held on tight and trailed after him.

“What did I lie about?” she said. “When did I—?”

“When you said you wanted more.” he flicked his smoldering smoke at her feet and took hold of her arms. Michael pressed her closer to his chest. The nearness of his hard skin and the smell of the desert wafting off his body brought a sigh from her lips. But Lily kept her eyes wide as she peered intently into his face.

“Asking me to fuck you,” he hissed. “Practically begging for it. You even wanted to know if I’d had the same thing with someone else. What was that about?”

Lily rested her fingers to his chest and slowly hung her head.

“It wasn’t a lie,” she confessed. “I did want more.”

“Then why not go back to bed and just wait,” he said. “Why couldn’t you do as you were told?”

“I—”

He pushed her away, his eyes blazing as he clenched his fists. “What is this to you? Playing like you’re my old lady so you can have a story to tell? Won’t all your little friends be jealous?”

Lily started to reach for him again when she suddenly held back and scoffed.

“I didn’t ask for this, okay?! Those creeps kidnapped me! And you.” Her finger stabbed at him. “You bought me like a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t ask for any of this to happen!”

Michael grabbed her again, and Lily gasped when his mouth was close enough to kiss.

“I get that,” he said. “But you sure put up a good show. Let’s see if you can manage an encore.”

He crushed his lips around hers. Lily’s first instinct was to push away from him, but as his tongue mingled with hers, she wilted and sank into his kiss. Michael’s arms surrounded her waist, and he pulled her closer. Lifting her hands to his face, she intensified her pursuit, her arms clinging to his neck. Michael moaned as he left his mouth, and she felt her face and her cunt on fire as she stared into his eyes.

“Not bad,” he said.

His finger traced the line of her mouth, and he let out a light laugh.

“So how about you just stay the course and be what I need you to be?”

Any and all tenderness fell away from her heart.

“And I’m the liar?” she challenged.

“From where I stand.”

“I thought you wanted to keep me safe,” she said. “Would you have said that if you didn’t… if you didn’t care?”

Michael’s eyes clouded over, and a small part of her hoped that he would admit what he felt, what she felt when he was in her arms and they were alone in the darkness.

“I care,” he said. “I care about my possessions.”

Rage clawed its way up her throat. Lily wanted to rail into him, to scream her fury into the sky and let it rain down to the core of his soul. But her tongue tied in her throat. Unable to speak, her palm tensed, and she slapped her hand across his surprised face.

“Hey!” he drew back and grabbed his cheek. “What do you—?”

“So that’s all I am to you,” she said. “One of your toys?”

Lily thought she saw a look that passed for pain pouring through his eyes. Was he lying now? Or was the lie lumping her in with his other trinkets and pretending that she barely counted for as much as that?

“We’ll talk about this when we get back,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Michael tried to grab her arm, but Lily shied away from his touch.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said.

“You sure as hell—”

“Don’t touch me!”

Lily wriggled in his hold, but Michael’s grip was more than she could fight. As he dragged her back to the bike, she kicked and spit and tried to break free. Bringing her nails to his face, she scratched his skin. Michael winced and groaned, but he held her fast until a set of headlights and a roaring motor started towards them.

“Get behind me,” he ordered.

“What’s going—” The rest of her words were choked out as he closed his hand around her mouth.

Drawing his gun, Michael aimed at the approaching driver, and Lily’s breath accelerated as she feared Trevor or Bruce or one of the other Mad Angels having a change of heart. Of course they would choose this moment, when it was just the two of them, to renegotiate the impromptu contract and take her for their own.

And if Lily had to be a toy, she’d rather stay at Michael’s than fall back into that nightmare.

“What the hell are you two waiting for?”

Ken’s familiar form rode into view. Michael sighed as he lowered his gun, and Lily relaxed behind him.

“Sorry, man,” Michael said as he concealed his weapon in his pants. “Didn’t know it was you.”

Ken dismounted, and he cocked his head to the side as he looked at Michael’s face.

“What happened there?” Ken asked. “Someone get a little rough?”

Even in the moonlight, Lily could see Michael’s cheeks turn scarlet. Satisfied that she had gotten one over on him, she was ready for him to point the finger in the direction of her shaking hands when Michael simply shrugged and barely looked at her over his shoulder.

“She’s a little rattled.” Michael said. “Been that kind of night.”

Surprised by and thankful for his lie, Lily nodded at Ken.

“Sure that’s all it is?” Ken’s stare was only for her, and Lily bowed her head and spoke softly.

“Just like he said.”

That was a lie, but it came quite easily, and Lily took note of the slight sneer in Michael’s eyes as he glanced at her over her shoulder.

“You don’t believe her?” Michael asked Ken as he kept his eyes on Lily. “Only a fool would doubt those lips.”

A small feeling of shame washed across her heart, but Lily stayed silent as Ken revved up his motor.

“Let’s say you two take this little reunion back to camp,” Ken ordered. “We got things to do.”

“I got you,” Michael said. “We’re coming.”

Ken watched them closely as Michael lifted Lily to the back of his bike. Mounting ahead of her, he shot her a quick glance and a whisper.

“Just cool it,” he cautioned. “Last thing we need tonight is another scene. Think you can lie a little longer?”

His words pierced her heart, but where was she going to go? Run into the desert with two Diesel Devils on her back when the Mad Angels might be lying in wait? She nodded her head and reluctantly pressed her hands to his hard shoulders.

“I can if you can,” she said.

Michael started his bike, and they followed Ken into the darkness.

As the camp came into view, Lily felt the adrenaline seeping from her veins. Her capture was a memory that she longed to suppress. So were Michael’s words. But she ached, body and soul, and she felt wearier than she had in her entire life.

Brendan and Wesley and some of the other Diesel Devils were already breaking down parts of camp. Just the smaller tents. As they started to load up their saddle bags, Lily felt a great guilt tearing at her heart. Outlaw’s den or not, this patch of desert was still their home.

And because of her, they were now forced to abandon it.

Ken sped back to Michael’s bike and spoke fast.

“The boys are starting now,” Ken said. “Two of you should get some rest.”

“Ken, I want to—”

“And I say that you need a rack for few hours,” Ken said as he cut him off. “We’ll regroup at first light, take what we need, and move out.”

Under protest, Michael brought his bike to a stop. Stepping to the sand, he stood toe-to-toe with Ken and clenched his fists.

“I’m not tired,” he insisted. “I should—”

“You should look after your old lady,” Ken said.

Turning his eyes back to Lily, Michael grunted his reluctant assent. Taking her in his arms, he brought her feet back to the sand. Lily lingered for a moment in his embrace and thought that she saw something that might be affection blazing across his face. But as fast as it came, Michael’s face morphed back into a cold mask, and he looked to Ken.

“She should see Sophia,” Michael said. “Get her some ice for her face or whatever.”

Ken brushed his hands together and shot Michael a confused stare.

“Don’t you want to help her out with that?” Ken asked. “You were the one that led the charge to find her.”

Ken’s words brought a small smile to her face. She might just be a toy to him, but some part of Michael still regarded her fondly. Lily was tempted to touch him, and she took his arm as both camp and desert night spun around her.

Michael didn’t shirk her hold, but his eyes focused on nothing and no one but Ken.

“She needs kind hands,” Michael said. “And I have work to do.”

Lily’s shoulders sagged as he led her deeper into camp. Of course she needed kind hands. But she wanted them to be his. Michael didn’t look down at her, and Lily nearly asked him where he was going when Sophia was there with her arms outstretched.

“Thank god,” Sophia said. “You come here, honey.”

Lily was reluctant to leave Michael’s side, but he eased her into Sophia’s arms.

“We were worried,” Sophia said. “You okay— oh, kid.”

She brought her fingers close to the bruise, and Lily stayed in her hold and her eyes.

“It’s nothing,” Lily assured her. “Hardly hurts.”

“Liar,” Sophia said.

Lily saw Michael glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She thought she saw a small smile cross his lips, and she started to lean into his shoulder when he shrugged her off and looked into Sophia’s eyes.

“She’s good at that,” Michael said.

And just like that, she went back to wanting to scratch his skin from his cheeks.

“Just take care of her,” Michael said. “We got work to do.”

He turned away from her and crashed into Ken.

“Michael, I said—”

“I heard you!” Michael barked. “And I am fucking fine. So we gonna do this or what?”

Even Ken seemed to know when he was beat, and he waved his hand in the air as Michael stalked off into the shadows. Watching him go tugged at her heart, and she wanted him to turn and give her one glance to assure her that some part of this was real.

But Michael kept plowing forward and made no move to get back in her gaze.

“Will he be okay?” Sophia asked.

Ken shook his head.

“She’s probably the only one that could enlighten us on that subject,” Ken said. He stepped closer and peered into her eyes.

“What about it?” Ken asked. “You want to tell me what really happened when you two lagged behind?”

Lily wanted to tell someone, and she parted her lips to speak when she suddenly held her tongue. She had desire to shame Michael in front of his leader, and Sophia’s presence reminded her that Ken was kind of precious to her.

And maybe it is my fault. He told me not to go. But I still ran.

“We… we were just sorting some stuff out,” Lily said. “Guess he’d rather I stick close to camp.”

Ken took her hand in his, and the smile that crossed his face made her gasp. Because it didn’t belong. Not in this place. Her mind flashed back to the memory that Ken was only in charge because of Leo, because Sophia’s man was no longer among the living. He stepped up because he had to, and from the looks of him at this moment, he didn’t want it. There was something too soft in his stare. Maybe he seized on the threat of her people coming after her and welcomed the chance to hide in the shadows. Lily glanced in the direction that Michael had departed, and she thought that the leaders of the Diesel Devils should be him.

But maybe Michael didn’t want it either.

Sophia pressed her hand to the bruise on her face and shook her head.

“Well whatever the hell happened, we need to tend to this,” Sophia said. “Now you just come with—”

“Are they back?”

Sally appeared from the folds of the tent. He eyes were wide, and her hair was rumpled. She looked as if she had just wrestled with some horrible dream. Was she imagining that she was back in the waking nightmare that had been her life prior to the night of the auction? Or was she dreaming of what might have happened had they not returned in one piece?

“You’re here!” she cried as soon as she saw Ken. “Thank god.”

Sally flung her arms around his neck and clasped him close. Ken’s arms enveloped her trembling shoulders, and he gathered her to his chest as he whispered into her hair.

“Right here,” he assured her. “Not a thing for you to worry about. You… hey. Hey come on now. Don’t cry.”

Sally disobeyed his order and wept into his shoulder. If it was Michael, if she was Sally, the biker would have pushed the sobbing girl back and told her that he didn’t buy even an inch of what she was selling. But Ken didn’t make that move. He pressed Sally to him, and she heard Ken’s soft voice as it hit her ear.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Neither are you.”

Sally pulled away from him, and she smiled through her tears as he kissed her brow.

“Except with me,” he said. “Always… only with me. Okay?”

As he pushed his fingers under her chin, Sally nodded, and Ken pecked her cheek as he passed her back to Sophia.

“Look after her,” Ken started. “Tend to Lily.”

Sophia gathered both girls under her arms and stood taller than seemed possible given her squat form.

“Don’t worry. The girls are in good hands,” Sophia said.

“That’s what I want to hear.”

Ken was nearly gone when he stopped in his tracks, and he succeeded where Michael had failed. Turning around, he swept back to their side, and he took Sally’s tear-stained cheeks in his hands.

“We’re heading out to start a new life,” he promised her. “Everything I promised you is gonna come to pass.”

Sally shrank into his shoulder and whispered into the leather covering his arms.

“You swear?” she asked.

“I would never lie to you.”

Ken lifted her lips to his, and he kissed her lightly. Lily saw her cringe ever so slightly under his hold, and she wondered just how intimate they truly were.

He touches me. He kisses me. But mostly he’s just been real sweet. I… I know it’s crazy, but I think it’s kind of like lucky that I’m here.

Wanting to feel that with Michael, Lily started to move into the darkness when Sophia grabbed her arm and pulled her back to her side.

“Nuh-uh,” she chided. “Michael wants you cleaned up, and that’s just what we’re gonna do.”

Before she was led into Sophia’s tent, Lily saw Ken run his hands down Sally’s back. His palms settled at her waist, and Ken gazed into her teary eyes.

“You go, too,” he said.

“But… you need to sleep.”

“Come here.”

His lips met hers again, and Sally seemed stiff for all of a second. But then she appeared to melt in his embrace, and Lily watched her arms surround his body. As they clasped each other close, Sally moaned into his mouth, and when Ken ended the kiss, their smiles met, and Sally sighed.

“You’ll be back soon?” she asked.

Ken kissed the top of her head and stroked her cheek.

“Not a damn thing in the world can stop me.”

As soon as he disappeared into the shadows, Sally bit her lip and wiped her eyes dry.

“Come on now,” Sophia said. “Fucking cold out here.”

Sophia’s makeshift home was a burst of pink and purple. It seemed soft and somehow homey against the desert winds despite the clutter of clothing strewn about the bed and a small table sitting before a rickety chair.

“Let’s get you out of this,” Sophia said as she peeled Michael’s jacket from her arms. Sally gasped at the sight of her torn dress.

“It’s nothing,” Lily assured her.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Sophia followed her words with a careful inspection of her bare back, and Lily winced when she touched her exposed skin.

“They were going to whip you,” Sophia said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Am I right?”

Unable to deny it, Lily murmured the answer that Sophia already knew.

“Lucky the guys got to you in time then, isn’t it?”

Pushing her hands into her pockets, Sophia revealed a handful of safety pins, and she went to work repairing the dress.

“Far cry from what you’ll have to do make it like new,” she sighed. “But it’ll do for the moment.”

“I… what I have to do?” Lily asked.

“You think I’m doing the patch job?” Sophia asked as she continued to pin.

“But I don’t know how to sew,” Lily confessed.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Sophia said with a hearty laugh. Finishing the task at hand, she turned Lily to face her. “Guess you’ll just have to learn,” Sophia said.

Lily started to speak when Sally pressed her lips to her ear.

“I’ll teach you,” she promised. “As soon as we’re safe. Now come on. Sit.”

Sinking into a pile of pillows, Lily basked in the softness, and she peered into Sally’s eyes, calm and tranquil now that she knew that Ken was back, now that he had held her close. Why couldn’t Michael love her like that? Was it really so wrong that she had gone after him? Even if it was, shouldn’t he just be relieved to have her away from the Mad Angels and back in his arms? But one look towards the flapping fold of the tent gave no sign that Michael was returning, and Lily sighed sadly as Sophia knelt before her and twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers.

“Boys are doing what they have to for you,” Sophia said. “For us.”

“What does that mean?” Lily asked. “Where are we going now?”

Sophia filled a basin with water and flung a cloth over her shoulder. Sally took Lily’s hand in hers as Sophia stroked her face.

“Deep cover,” Sophia said. “It happens.”

Lily started to ask why when Sally beat her to the punch.

“So you’ve done this before?” Sally asked.

Sophia’s face clouded over with a memory, and her voice sounded flat as she recounted a waking dream.

“Once,” Sophia started. “Leo said that we needed to lay low when another crew started to close in.”

“Mad Angels?” Lily asked.

Sophia shook her head sadly.

“Another crew,” Sophia said. “Even rougher if you can believe it.”

Just the thought seemed impossible, and Lily started to press the point when Sophia stroked her face and shot her a sweet smile.

“Not now,” Sophia said. “Let’s clean you up.”

“But I need to—”

“Right now you need to rest,” Sophia continued. “And I need to bring this swelling down. Can’t have Michael’s girl looking anything less than pretty.”

Lily relaxed into the feel of the cool damp cloth pressing against her flesh. Sophia wiped around her bruise, and Lily’s mind turned to the other parts of her body, her back, her breasts, her cunt. Maybe they hadn’t been completely violated, but she still trembled when she thought of unwanted hands pressing against her skin.

Into her flesh.

“Lily?”

“I’m fine,” she said. Lied. Michael wouldn’t be surprised, and as she hung her head, Sally was at her side, her whisper warm against Lily’s ear.

“You will be,” Sally promised.

Sophia filled the cloth with a generous handful of ice. Tying the fabric off at the end, she crafted an ice pack and held it to Lily’s cheek.

“Christ,” Lily said through gritted teeth as the cold seemed to burn through the cloth as it assailed her sensitive skin. Sally held her hand tighter, and soon Lily’s battered flesh acclimated to the cold, and there was no stinging. Just a soothing cool that nearly made her forget what had gone down and the mysterious destination lying ahead.

“Feels good, right?” Sophia asked.

Lily nodded, and Sophia took her free hand and centered her fingers on the cold cloth.

“Can you hold that there for me?” Sophia asked. “Just like that.”

“Sure,” Lily said. “No problem.”

“That’s a good girl,” Sophia said as she patted her leg. The stout redhead was suddenly on her feet, and Lily watched with Sally at her side as Sophia resumed what had obviously been an interrupted task. As Sophia clumsily folded her clothes, basically stuffed them into two battered suitcases, Lily strained her ear to the sounds of the breakdown just outside the tent. She heard Ken giving orders and various Diesel Devils answering him with affirmatives. But not one answer sounded like it came from Michael.

Where is he? What if he’s not coming back?

The thought of that brought a lump to her throat, and Lily was about find her way to her feet. Injury or not, she would try to find him.

I have to…

Sally slipped closer to her side and spoke in a hushed, worried voice.

“Where did they take you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Lily confessed. “Their clubhouse or whatever I guess.”

“They… they didn’t…”

As Sally’s voice trailed off, Lily was quick to shake her head and reassure her.

“No,” she said. “Ken and Michael got to me time. For that I’m grateful.”

“You should be,” Sophia said. “Last thing Michael needs is for you get yourself fucked up.”

Lily narrowed her eyes as Sophia zipped up one case and turned her attention to the other.

“Excuse me?” she asked. “Last thing he needs?”

“You heard me,” Sophia said. “That poor boy’s been through enough.”

Even though she knew that there had to be a story attached to the marks on his back, Lily pushed those thoughts aside and sprang to her feet.

“ He’s been through enough?” she challenged. “What about what happened to me?”

“Haven’t heard you complaining,” Sophia said. “Night after night, sounds like he’s keeping you pretty damn satisfied.”

Lily blushed. Even after Sally had told her that everyone could hear her screaming every time Michael rode her to climax, Lily couldn’t suppress her cries of ecstasy. No matter how hard she tried. But that didn’t mean…

“I’m still here against my will,” Lily spat. “And it sounds like this whole cut and run thing is to make sure that I stay his captive. No matter what I want.”

Her eyes blazed over her throbbing cheek, and Sophia looked up at her with what felt like a condescending stare.

“And what do you want?” Sophia asked. “Rescued? Go home? Maybe spill the whole story and put us all at risk?”

“Yeah,” Lily challenged. “Maybe I do. Maybe this crew and those other freaks and those sickos at the auction. Maybe I want to bring them all down.”

Sophia seethed and started to speak when Sally rushed to her side.

“No please!” she cried as she gripped Lily’s arm. “Please don’t do that!”

“Sally, you’re a prisoner here, too,” Lily said. “And you want to stay?”

“I sure as hell don’t want to back to what I was,” Sally said, her voice growing stronger even as tears filled her eyes.

“You won’t have to,” Lily assured her. “You can tell the cops about Henry. That he sold you. You can get some justice.”

“No,” Sally said as she sadly shook he head. “Justice is the last thing that I’ll get. If the law comes for you, I’m done.”

She started to step away, but Lily seized her shoulders.

“How can you say that?” Lily asked. “Why—?”

A ragged moan passed through Sally’s lips, and she hung her head when Sophia sprang into action.

“Leave her alone,” Sophia ordered.

“Why should I?” Lily challenged. “She knows more than she’s saying.”

“She doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s right” Sally said as she turned her eyes back to them, tears rolling down her cheeks. “But I don’t know how else I can make you understand.”

Sally fell back into the pillows, and she held her face in her hands.

“I… I told you that I was passed around,” Sally started.

Lily nodded and tried to touch Sally when the girl shrank from her hold.

“But before that happened, there was someone else. Someone much worse than Henry.”

What could be worse than the man that was supposed to love and protect her using her like a sex toy for his friends and selling her for a song when he got bored or just wanted some extra pocket change? Lily’s curiosity was piqued, but she held her breath as Sally struggled to speak.

“He didn’t pass me around,” Sally muttered. “He wanted me to all to himself. All night. Every night. I…”

Her voice started to crack, and Sophia pulled a dusty bottle from a corner and poured a shot of what had to be vodka into a dirty glass.

“Here,” Sophia said as she placed the glass in Sally’s trembling hand. Steadying her back as she tilted the glass towards her lip, Sally drank deeply and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. As Lily watched her choke the bitter taste down with a shudder, Sally appeared to calm, and she steeled herself to continue.

“See… see, the thing is…”

Again she hesitated, and Sophia wrapped her arm around Sally’s quaking shoulders.

“You don’t have to tell her,” Sophia assured her. “If it’s too hard, you—”

“No,” Lily said as she moved to her side and took Sally’s trembling hand. Maybe it was wrong; maybe she was pushing her too hard. But she had to find a way to shake Sally out of this. So what if Ken was good to her? Like her, she had to have a family desperate to find her. If she could just make her understand—

“Sweetie,” Sophia started, her voice weary. “Isn’t it enough for one night? Can’t you see that—?”

“It can’t be as bad as she’s making it sound,” Lily said. “And if someone else hurt her, she deserves the chance to face him in—”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Sally asked in an anguished voice. “How am I supposed to face my father?”

With a gasp, Lily pressed her fingers to her mouth, her body suddenly racked with horror.

“Your… your father?”

Sally took another sip of her drink before she nodded, and Lily felt as if she would vomit. Her father? Bad enough that she had the misfortune to hook up with a boyfriend who abused her. But her father? Even in his most vile moments, Craig Nielsen would never had done anything to her like that.

Her soul suddenly filled with a longing ache to see her father, hold him close, and tell him that she was sorry that she hadn’t been the child that he wanted and that she was grateful for the man that he was.

“It started when my mom died,” Sally muttered. “First it was just, come in bed with me. Let me hold you. Let me feel you close and safe. I thought he was lonely. Thought it was what my mother would have wanted.”

Tilting the bottle, Sophia freshened her drink, and Sally took another gulp before she continued.

“Then it was touching,” she said. “Fondling. I was young.”

“How old were you?” Lily asked.

“Eleven,” she whispered.

Eleven? What kind of sick bastard would do that to his daughter?

“First time he… he put it inside me… nothing ever hurt so much. Not even when Henry’s buddies were at their worst.”

Barely breathing, Lily listened as Sally recounted seven long years of having lay at her father’s side as he raped her repeatedly and brought her so low that she took off with Henry when he did little more than flash her a smile and promised that he would take care of her.

“Guess I’m not the best judge of character,” Sally said with a mirthless laugh.

“Wait,” Lily finally blurted out. “Why didn’t you tell someone what your dad was doing? Go to the cops or—”

“Like his own squad was going to take my word over his,” Sally said.

Lily’s heart thudded rapidly in her chest as she started to connect the dots in her mind.

“You mean… you…”

“For Christ’s sake!” Sophia cried. “Yes. She couldn’t go to the law because her old man was the law. This world ain’t the black and white picture that you’ve spent your whole life staring at, never once realizing that it’s a lie. So don’t pretend that you know what you’re talking about.”

Nodding, Lily let the reality of Sally’s confession seep into her veins, and as she peered down at Sally, she fought to blink back the tears brimming in her eyes. This girl’s entire life had been a horror show, and Lily felt a stab of guilt penetrate her heart. She had fled because she was bored, restless. Compared to Sally’s lot, it was nothing that she should have ever felt the need to run away from.

“I’m so sorry,” Lily whispered as she lightly touched her shoulder.

“Thanks,” Sally said. “It is what it is. I can’t change it. Any of it.”

Sally finished her second drink and asked for another when Sophia gathered her in her arms and whispered into her neck.

“I think that’s enough for now,” she said as she patted her hair. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Sally answered. Sophia stepped from their side, and Sally turned her gaze to Lily.

“So you get it now, right?” she asked in a pleading voice. “If you’re found, and the cops start poking around, I’ll be right back with him. He’ll probably lock me up, and I’ll never see the light of day again. Just… him. I can’t… that can’t happen.”

Lily started to speak when Sophia quickly cut her off.

“It’s not happening,” Sophia assured her. “Not on Ken’s watch, and not on mine. Oh, honey.”

Sophia knelt before Sally again and cupped her face with her hands. “You’re one of us now,” she said. “You belong here. You’re safe here.”

“Promise?” Sally asked.

“Cross my heart.”

Sophia kissed her head, and Sally sank into her shoulders. Her shoulders heaved as she cried. Lily surveyed the scene, and a feeling of gratitude swirled around her heart. No one would ever believe that an outlaw gang in the desert was the safest place for this girl to be.

But given the alternatives…

Sally lifted her eyes and focused her stare on Lily.

“You’re safe, too,” Sally said. “Michael will keep you safe.”

Her mind drifted towards how he must have felt when he found her gone, when he raced after her into the night with his back bare. How had he felt when he saw her strung up, Bruce ready to strip the skin from her bare back with his belt? Pulling away from the others, she folded his jacket over her arms and started back into the night.

“Hold up,” Sophia said as she stopped her at the entrance of the tent. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“He must be cold,” Lily said as she stroked the leather. “He should really have this.”

Again she started to leave, but Sophia held her back. “I think you’ve done enough running around for one night. Now why don’t you just get back to icing that bruise?”

Sophia tugged on her sleeve, but Lily held her ground. “I just want to talk to him.” She clutched the folds of the tent in her fingers.

“Michael doesn’t talk,” Sophia said. “But I guess you already figured that one out.”

With a nod, Lily smiled sadly. “I’m learning,” she said. “Quite the education.”

“And yet you don’t know the first thing about threading a needle.”

Sophia patted her back and brought her back into the tent. The chill of the desert night along with the shaking in light of Sally’s revelation caused her to wrap her body in his jacket again. Settling into his scent, she spied the dusty bottle and asked for a swig.

“Why not,” Sophia shrugged. “Here.”

Lily drank directly from the bottle, and as the warmth swirled around her, she sat at Sally’s side. Looking at her small, crushed form, she took her hand.

“I won’t go to the cops,” Lily promised.

A wave of hope washed across Sally’s face. “You won’t?” she asked. “You promise?”

“I—”

“Is that a fact?”

Turning her head to the open flap, she saw Michael, his eyes flickering in the dim light. As soon as their eyes met, Lily felt warm inside, renewed, and she rose to meet him, stripping off his jacket and holding it out as her eyes ran up and down the length of his broad arms.

“Yes,” she said. “I wouldn’t lie to Sally.”

As she eased his arms into his jacket, her fingers trailed down the leather sleeves until her light touch met his palms. She could sense that he wanted to clasp her hands in his, but he held back and stepped past her to address Sophia.

“We’re good for tonight,” Michael told her. “Ken says we’ll finish up in the morning.” His eyes turned to Sally. “I’ll walk you back to his rack,” he said. “That okay with you?”

Sally muttered her assent, and she stood to take his arm. As he walked her past Lily, Michael arched his eyebrow.

“Will you wait this time?” he asked.

Part of her wanted to throw her arms in the air and tell him that he could trust her, remind him that she had already given her word. But she stopped short when she saw how anxious Sally was to return to Ken’s side.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said.

“We’ll see.”

He disappeared with Sally, and as Lily smoothed her hands down her face, she reached for the bottle and took another swig.

“Easy,” Sophia cautioned. “Easy.”

Her body started to numb, and as she sat on the edge of Sophia’s bed, she stared up into her eyes.

“How long did you know?” Lily asked.

“About Sally? For a while now. Ken is really another breed, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Lily asked.

“I mean he could tell that she was, you know, damaged. And when she finally told him what had happened—”

“She told him?”

“She trusts him, Lily. Don’t you trust Michael?”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that question. He saved at the auction; he was her hero again tonight. But there was something buried deep in his heart that he wasn’t sharing with her.

Like I should talk. Lots of things he doesn’t know about me.

“I don’t know,” Lily admitted. Sophia let the comment side and finished packing her final suitcase.

“Well Ken asked me to talk to her,” Sophia continued. “Wanted to know if I thought he was taking advantage of her.”

“So she told you,” Lily said.

“The whole gory mess,” Sophia said. “Enough to make you sick, right?”

“Disgusting doesn’t even describe it.”

“But she told me that she liked it here. That she liked being with Ken. My opinion? He’s the first man to treat her like a person in the sad span of her life.”

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Lily said.

***

Stepping towards the flap, Lily’s eyes searched for Michael. The camp already resembled a ghost town. The activity in the tent reserved for meals told her that the bulk of the crew was hunkering down there for the night. Sophia’s status as something of a den mother granted her the privacy of her tent, and Sally would be allowed the privacy of Ken’s bed.

And Michael…

“Sophia?” Lily asked as stepped back inside and smoothed her hands down the sides of her skirt. As she tied her hair over her shoulders, Sophia paused and waited for Lily to finish her thought.

“What happened to him?” she asked. “Why is he so… I don’t know.”

“Spit it out,” Sophia challenged. “Say what’s on your mind.”

Lily took a deep breath “Why is he so hard? I mean, sometimes, like he’s sweet, and—”

“He came after you tonight,” Sophia reminded her. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

Given what might have happened, it counted for everything.

“But he turns on a dime,” Lily said. “What makes him act that way? Why—?”

“Ask him,” Sophia said. “Not me.”

“I’ve tried. He shuts me out. Maybe… maybe that’s why I went after him tonight. I want to know him. Like really know him.”

Sophia patted her face and smiled softly.

“Then don’t run off again, and maybe you’ll get your answer.”

It was far from the answer that she wanted, but Lily resigned herself to waiting, and she paced the sand, her eyes continuously turning towards the flap as she hoped for his return. How long did it take to give Sally back to Ken? Maybe they were strategizing, putting the finishing touches on the morning plans. But even that didn’t feel like it should take this long. Sally was spent before she even left, and Ken would see that and want to hold her, just hold her, as he eased her into sleep. As the seconds ticked by, Lily had to wonder if Michael was playing with her. What if he was never coming back, and was this a test to see if she would simply curl up on Sophia’s piled of pillows and slip into a restless sleep? Could he be so cruel, so cold?

He most definitely could. But would he really do that to me after everything that had happened?

She pulled open the flap to Sophia’s tent and stepped into the desert.

“Hey!” Sophia cried. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Wresting Lily way from the flap, Sophia grabbed her chin and stared at her hard. “You want to know so much? Then just wait. He said that he was coming back.”

“Will he?” Lily asked. “How do I know that? I know nothing about him and I’m supposed to just accept…”

Accept the way he feels inside me. Maybe I could just live off of that and never ask another question.

“Accept what?”

Michael appeared, and Lily fought the urge to rush into his arms. Holding back, she glanced at Sophia out of the corner of her and silently begged her to provide some kind of cover story.

“Took your sweet time!” Sophia chirped. “You know this little girl’s been through her own brand of hell tonight.”

Michael’s jaw tensed as he folded his fingers into a fist.

“I know,” he said in a thick voice. “Saw it with my own eyes.”

Lily could almost sense a crack in his heart, but he stayed like stone as Sophia pressed her palms together.

“Okay then,” she said. “So how about you take her home and show her that everything’s going to be alright?”

Their eyes locked for a second, and the sudden softness in his stare almost seemed to make Sophia’s words real. Pressing her body closer to his side, she longed for the feel of his arms draped across her back.

But Michael didn’t make that move.

“Everything is going to be alright,” he said. “As soon as we make tracks at dawn.”

Michael started to lead her out of the tent, and when Lily looked back to Sophia, the redhead mouthed for her to just take it slow .

But Michael’s space was beyond rapid as he brought her back to his bed.

As soon as they were hidden behind real walls, Michael stripped off his jacket and moved to a bowl positioned on a table in the corner of the room. As he splashed water across his face, Lily sat on the edge of the bed and watched his back muscles ripple as he grabbed a towel and wiped the droplets away from his skin. Once his face was dry, he turned to face hers, his face blank as his eyes moved down her legs.

“So you waited this time,” he said. “Guess that’s gotta count for something.”

Lily waned to spit in his face and charge back to Sophia’s tent. But she didn’t move. Looking into his eyes, she hung her head and spoke softly.

“I told you I wouldn’t run,” she muttered. “I’m sorry I did the first time.”

Slinging the towel over his shoulder, Michael inched closer to the bed and peered down at her. He was close enough to touch. Should she just wrap her arms around his thighs, fall to her knees, and beg for mercy? The thought was tempting. She wanted to feel his flesh, to sigh around his cock as it penetrated her again. But she held back and lifted her eyes. Michael’s face was like slate, and she slowly parted her lips.

“I was wrong,” she continued. “You’ve never hurt me. And I should have listened.”

“You should’ve listened,” he echoed.

Michael fell to his knees, and Lily whimpered when he started to touch her bruised cheek but still held back.

“Don’t you like me?” he asked.

Lily turned her eyes to his with a sad smile. “I do. Maybe I shouldn’t. But I didn’t lie when I said I wanted more.”

Growing bold, she pressed her fingers to his shoulders, and Michael didn’t flinch when she stared at him hard.

“I… I know I’m just a thing to you,” she said. “But that’s better than what some people have.”

She blinked back tears at the thought of everything that Sally had endured, and Michael didn’t speak as she took a deep breath to continue.

“So I won’t run,” Lily said. “I’ll try to be good. Do better.”

Michael’s ears curled close to her cheek, and she expected his kiss when he drew back and ordered her to her feet.

“Take off your dress,” he commanded.

Too weary to object, the vodka swirling around her brain, Lily obeyed. Mindful of the pins, she lifted her dress of over her shoulders and kicked off her shoes. Michael’s intense gaze caused her to shudder more than the cool night air, and she expected him to press her to the sheets, mount her and claim her as his property once again. After everything that had happened, Lily knew that she would not protest. She wanted to eradicate the memory of the Mad Angels and only know his hands again.

“Come with me,” Michael said.

Lily followed him away from the bed, and he pulled a hard backed chair from the corner and ordered her to sit. Complying quickly, she did as she was told and waited. As she closed her eyes, Lily heard the sound of sloshing water. Her curiosity nearly got the better of her, but she didn’t lift her lids. Whatever he was planning, she would do better this time. She would wait and hope that…

“Oh!” she moaned as he gently kissed her legs. Excited by the return of his lips, started to touch his hair when his voice broke through their shared silence.

“Shhh,” he crooned. “I’m just going to clean you up.”

Opening her eyes, Lily saw him on his knees. A bowl of fresh water sat at his side, he wet the towel before wringing it out. As he brought the damp linen to her limbs, he washed up the length of the legs as he settled his free arm against the small of her back.

“Water’s okay?” he asked.

Unable to speak, Lily nodded softly, and thought she saw him smile as he wiped up her sides. His touch was light, soft, everything that she hadn’t come to expect from him. Yet she still reveled in the feel of his hands as cleaned the Mad Angel’s touch from her body. Where would she be now if Michael hadn’t swooped in at the right moment? She shuddered at the thought but quickly pushed it aside as she focused on Michael’s hands on her body.

“It… it feels fine,” she finally said. “Nice.”

“Good,” he said.

When he was at her breasts, he paused and rested his brow to her soft mounds. Lily started to wind her fingers around his neck when she just looked down at him. He seemed to shake against her, and she bit her lip as he spoke into her skin.

“I don’t want you to ever go again,” he said. “Because you’re… you’re not just a thing to me.”

“I’m not?” Lily asked as her heart skipped a beat. Michael lifted his face to hers. The anguish was clear in his features, but he choked it back and spoke softly.

“How can you even ask me that?”

Stretching towards her, he rested the towel against her trembling thigh and moved towards her lips. Keeping her eyes open, she wanted to feel his kiss, to stay in his stare as he claimed he mouth. Michael made no other move, and nothing but his whisper hit her bruised cheek.

He finally touched her there.

“Looks better,” he said. “But never again. I don’t want anyone to ever lay hands on you.”

“Neither do I.” Lily whispered as she started towards his mouth. But he held back and lowered his lids.

“I should have killed them all,” he said. “Just for looking at you.”

Lily couldn’t help but blush. Maybe she was more than his bike or his gun, and a part of her liked the idea that he would try to keep the sky from falling to keep her safe. But what then? What if they had strung him up and added new scars to his back. She pictured his body twitching until it could no longer move, and she shook her head as she touched his face.

“Can you just look at me?” she asked. “Please.”

Their eyes locked, and she sighed as she stroked her scratch marks on his cheek.

“I’m sorry for that,” she said. “Does it hurt?”

He grabbed her hand and pressed it closer to his flesh.

“Not when you touch me,” he said.

Running her fingers down his face, she felt his lips curl into the smile, and when her eyes could no longer deny her hands, she flung her arms around her neck and clung to him.

“Touch me,” she begged. “Hold me.”

Michael obeyed her order, and his palms pressed into her back as she rested her head to his shoulder. Basking in the warmth of his body, Lily wished that they were already far away and hidden. Sally would be calmer, and Ken would likely feel more in control.

And maybe Michael would finally tell her everything that was buried in his soul.

“Let me finish,” Michael said.

Spreading her thighs, he cleaned her limbs, and Lily trembled before he even reached her cunt. When the damp fabric touched her there, Lily’s body buzzed, and she longed for him to let the towel fall and push inside her. The feel of his cock was preferable to the length of his hand, but she would take any part of him.

“Michael,” she moaned as he moved away from her.

“It’s alright,” he promised. “Just relax.”

He dried every inch of her flesh and pulled the top sheet from the bed. Draping it around her body, he lifted Lily to her feet and held her tight to his chest.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said.

“Promise?” Lily asked.

“Just come to bed, baby.”

Pressing her to the mattress, Michael unfolded the sheet and smiled at her naked form quivering under his eyes.

“I get it,” he purred.

“What do you mean?” She kept her arms at her side, wanting to stay uncovered as he gazed down at her. Michael slowly sat at the edge of the bed, and his fingers caressed her legs as he lowered his eyes.

“Why they would want you,” he said. “Don’t make it right. But who could resist you?”

Stretching forward, Lily dotted her fingers to his chest, and she smiled into his skin, whispering. “I can’t resist you. Michael…”

Their eyes met, and she kissed his cheek, her lips working like mad to erase the scratches from his flesh. Michael suddenly pushed her back and shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind your marks on me.”

Lily’s hands moved down her back, and when the ridges of his scars danced against her fingers, she paused in her pursuit and rested her head to his chest. “What about these marks?” she asked. “Where did they come from, Michael?”

He tensed in her arms, but Lily’s hold stayed tight as she felt his heart pounding into her ear.

“Please tell me,” she begged. “If I really am more than a thing, you can talk to me. You can trust me.”

Michael started to relax in her arms, and Lily clasped him closer. He stayed silent in her hold, and as she felt his breath heaving against her body, his hands found her hair. Stroking her locks, Lily was ready for his confession when he pushed away from her.

“Michael…”

“I can’t talk about it,” he finally said.

Lily watched his shoulders creep towards his ears as he pressed his palms to the mattress. The bed nearly shook under his hold, and Lily could feel the agony coming off of him in waves.

“Michael?”

Fighting any fear, she crawled to his side and gently placed her arm around his tight shoulders, her free hand tracing the scars that criss-crossed his broad back.

“Tell me,” she said, her lips close to his ear. “I want to know.”

As he smashed his hands together, Lily trembled against him, but she kept him in her hold and simply waited.

“Not the first time we had to cut and run,” Michael muttered.

“I know.”

“What do you think you know?” Michael challenged.

Lily started to fall back, but she took a deep breath and held her ground at his side.

“Sophia… Sophia said that this happened once before.”

“She would know,” Michael confessed. “She was there.”

Curving her arm around his chest, Lily reached for his hand, and Michael didn’t shy away from her touch.

“We… we were just making our mark in these parts,” Michael said. “Leo… Leo said that we just had to press our boots to the ground, and it’d be ours for the taking.”

He quaked under her arms, but Lily just held him closer.

“Keep talking,” she said. “Tell me what happened.”

“We didn’t care,” Michael said. “We knew that we could take any other crew down. Leo was on board. Ken not so much.”

That made sense.

Michael sighed heavily, and his eyes clouded over as her stared into space, seemingly without seeing anything.

“It was too quick, too soon,” he muttered. “And they decided to teach us a lesson.”

He swallowed hard, and Lily kept her hands in his as he hung his head.

“Her name was Annie,” he said.

“Was she an auction girl, too?”

“No,” he confessed. “But she was into it.” Michael stared at her hard. “And don’t try to tell me that you’re not.”

Lily was still, but she offered no objection as he continued.

“We rode together for nearly a year. And they…” He looked up and took a deep breath. “They took her.”

Lily trembled where she sat, but she pressed him to continue.

“I went after her,” he said. “I never rode so fast. And then there… there…”

He shattered. Michael’s body shook as he tried to fight back the tears that still spilled down his cheeks. Lily tried to draw him closer.

“Don’t,” he hissed. He tried to push away from her, but Lily wouldn’t let him go.

“Tell me,” she insisted. “Keep talking—”

“I barely recognized her when I got there.” He pushed her back to the bed, and his hard eyes hovered over her. There was an unmistakable sadness behind the anger. “She was sliced,” he hissed. “Shredded. Broken. And… they were there. They stripped me. Whipped my back raw. Made me look at her body the whole time.”

Now that she knew the origin of his scars and what seeing her on the ground had to have done to him, Lily touched his back again and cooed into his ear.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. I’m so sorry.”

He felt limp against her body, but Michael kept talking.

“They dumped me back at camp,” Michael muttered. “Leo said we should run. Ken wanted to regroup.”

Lifting her eyes to his, Lily held her tongue. Which side did he fall on?

“We had to run then,” he said. “They’d have killed us all if we didn’t move. I let Annie down. I—”

“No,” Lily said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was,” he said. “I should never have let her go off on her own.”

He suddenly focused on her face. Grabbing her hair, he peered intently into her eyes.

“So don’t you run from me again.” he said. “Don’t you make me re-live that night.”

Maybe it was wrong, maybe she was signing up for captivity, but at the sight of his anguished face, Lily brushed her fears aside and took him into her arms. “You don’t have to,” she promised. “Come here.”

They lay against the bed, and Lily kissed his chest as he held her hands tightly.

“Lily?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “Not now. Not ever.”

Kissing his mouth, Michael’s lips were tight against hers. Lily pushed his pants from his thighs, and she felt his cock hard against her thigh as she curled her legs around his.

“Michael?”

He averted her eyes, and Lily was quick to bring his gaze back to her face as she kissed his cheeks.

“I’m not leaving you,” she promised. “You saved me. Let me save you.”

Rolling him to his back, Lily found his cock hard, and she slipped around him. Michael’s piece felt weak as her flesh encased his, but when she grinded her nails into his arms and savored his length, he started to grow inside her.

“That’s it,” she said. “Just be with me. Let me help you.”

Michael stayed soft inside her, but as she twisted her hips around his cock, he started to throb, and Lily let her hair fall to his chest as she kissed his flesh and stroked his sides.

“I won’t leave you,” she said. “I won’t…”

As his pulse intensified, she felt a sudden kinship with Ken. They both had to meet their partners’ needs to make them feel safe. Sally needed a chaste hold.

Michael needed this.

“Come here.”

Lily fell closer to him, and Michael moaned as her cunt demanded more of his cock. Her hips spread wider, and Michael suddenly pushed off the bed and grabbed her breasts.

“I’m with you,” she promised. “There’s nowhere else I want to be.”

As her body rocked against his, Lily sighed at the feel of his cock expanding around her. He moved deeper inside her, and Michael moaned into her neck, whispering with each thrust.

“Say that again,” he ordered.

Lily threw her head back as he singed her pussy with another thrust, and she clutched his back as she moaned her pleasure.

“I’m not… I’m not going to leave you.”

She was ready for him to hoist her off the bed and slam her body to the wall, whatever he needed. She started to lift her body up when Michael stunned her by pushing her to the sheets and sighing into her face.

“I’m holding you to that,” Michael said.

He wrapped her arms around her and held her close. Lily’s lips parted at the feel of his cock, gentle but sure as it probed her sensitive flesh. His hands were hard as he held her down, but she focused on the flesh between her legs. He started to slip away from her, but then his return was smooth and sure.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Hold me to it. Hold me to you.”

In his arms, Lily rested her head to his shoulder, and she smiled at the feel of his cock releasing inside her. The sweet stream of his lust made her want to scream. Everyone still at camp must have already pressed their ears to the makeshift walls, just waiting for her cries. But suddenly Lily wanted to give her moans to no one but Michael as she wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed into his shoulder.

“That feels good,” Michael muttered. “More.”

Lily smiled at his order, and she sighed into his skin as he finished around her, and once he had drained his cock, and his head fell to her breasts, they rested together against the sheets, and Lily stroked his face.

“Are you lying?” she teased.

“What… what do you mean?” he asked between pants.

“Who wants more now?” Lily asked.

Smiling into her eyes, Michael dragged her closer and stroked her back. “I do,” he said. “Will you stay with me? Ride with me?”

Lily nodded, and she felt content as he held her tight, and she moved to his lips and kissed him quickly.

“Just try to turn me away.”

Lily awoke in Michael’s arms feeling happy. Despite everything she had felt and all that she had learned the night before, Lily pushed those thoughts aside and cuddled closer to his chest. His skin felt warm against her cheek, and Lily smiled as his sleeping heart pounded into her ear. Here was another chance to run. She knew that this day was going to be a journey into the unknown, and maybe she’d be smarter to dress fast and flee from his side.

But I don’t want to.

She wanted nothing but to stay at near him and see where he would lead her. Kissing his sleeping lips, she pulled back when his head twisted around the pillow, and she waited without breathing as his eyes blinked and he focused on her.

“You’re still here,” he said.

“I am,” Lily promised.

Taking his face in her hands, Lily stroked his chin and brought her lips to his again. Michael’s kiss was slow, but his tongue mingled around hers, and he stretched up to envelop her waist in his arms.

“Good,” he said when their lips parted. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

Michael kissed down her arms, and Lily giggled as he nuzzled her breasts and licked her nipples. Lily sighed at the feel of his tongue against her flesh, and she reluctantly lifted his face from her chest and peered into his eyes.

“Do you trust me now?” she teased.

“You didn’t run off again.”

He turned her body back to the bed, and Lily laughed as he buried his head in her middle and twirled his tongue around her naval. She was still sighing when he lifted his head and starred into her eyes.

“Ride or die?” Michael said.

Even as it sounded ominous, Lily nodded and stroked his cheek. “I’m on deck,” Lily said. “With you. Only you.”

She kissed his waiting lips, and as he melted into her arms, Lily clasped him closer. Even when their mouths parted, she hungrily kissed his cheeks, working her lips around her own slashes. But he said that he didn’t mind her marks, and she kissed him there and settled into his hair.

“Michael?”

He dragged her face to his eyes. His smile was faint, but she saw the corners of his lips turn up, and she mirrored his motions with a wide grin.

“That’s what I want to see,” Michael said. “Only want to see you smiling.”

He kissed her again, and Lily stretched her body against his as she parted her lips. “When do we have to leave?”

“Soon,” Michael answered. He propped his body up on his elbow and looked down at her. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “You know that, right?”

Lily scanned his face. She could see ancient torments clouding his eyes as he waited for her answer, and she touched his face and nodded her head. “I trust you,” Lily said. “I’m even okay if I’m just one of your toys.”

Michael’s jaw clenched, and he lifted her into his arms and brought her face close to his. “You’re more than that,” he said. “You’re my… you’re my girl.”

He kissed her again before resting his head to her neck.

“That okay with you?” Michael asked.

“It is,” Lily said. “I’ll follow you.”

Michael pecked her cheek, and she lamented the loss of his body as he left the bed and started pulling on his jeans. The loss of his naked form saddened her, but his chest was still hers for the taking as he sat back on the bed, and Lily stroked his tight flesh.

“Want to tell me where we’re going?” she asked.

As he pressed his feet into his boots, Michael pursed his lips and playfully shook his head. “You’ll know when we get there,” he promised. “Bet you’re gonna like it.”

Falling into him, Lily clung to him again, and she kissed his neck softly. “With you?” she murmured. “I’ll love it.”

Their mouths met, and Lily’s entire body buzzed around his kiss when a sharp cry pierced the air, and Lily tensed against Michael’s side. “What’s that?” she whispered.

“I better find out.”

Michael moved for his gun, and as soon as Lily thought that he was in danger, she stepped from the bed and slid the pinned dress over her shoulders. Michael saw her dressed, and he pushed her back and wildly shook his head.

“Stay here.” he said.

“Michael, I—”

“It there’s trouble, then I don’t want you in it.”

“But—”

“You said that you would listen to me. I need you to listen.”

Lily hung her head and fell back to the bed. Nodding softly, she cringed at the sound of the door opening, and as she saw his form starting to depart, she reached for him. “Please come back,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me alone”

Michael turned back, and he started to speak when a gunshot cracked through the air. Lily hurried to Michael’s side, and he winded his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his chest. His eyes darted into camp with a grunt.

“Fuck,” he said. “We gotta go.”

Lily stepped close to his side, but Michael pushed her behind his back and glared over his shoulder.

“Stay close,” he said. “Stay where I can touch you.”

“I will,” she said. “I promise.”

As they headed into the camp, Lily stayed close to Michael’s side, and she stopped when she saw the Diesel Devils with their weapons drawn. But they were still as Ken lay crumpled against the sand. Lily saw the blood trailing from his temple, and as she turned her eyes to the left, she saw Sally shuddering in her dress as Trevor Carr had his arm wrapped around her waist, the barrel of his gun pressed to her cheek.

“No!” Lily screamed. “Let her—”

Michael pressed his arm to the held her air and held her back. As Bruce kicked Ken hard, the other Diesel Devils appeared ready to waste him when Trevor forced Sally closer to his body and cocked his trigger.

“Let’s just all calm down,” Trevor said. “Bruce wants more than you fucks running away.”

He glared at Michael and released a vindictive laugh.

“I just want the slut I paid for.”

Keeping Sally’s wriggling form close to his chest, his gun still at her head, he kicked Ken’s side, and Bruce pointed his gun in Michael’s direction.

“On your knees,” Bruce hissed. “Now.”

Lily gripped his arm and stepped past him. “He’s not—”

“I’ll blow your head off if you don’t hold still.”

Shrinking back, Lily took Michael’s hand and whispered into his back. “Don’t let him hurt Sally,” she muttered. “She can’t take anymore.”

“Leave her alone,” Ken groaned. “Don’t—”

Bruce kicked his sides hard. Michael and the other Diesel Devils snarled at the sound of his strikes, and Sally struggled in Trevor’s arms as he pushed his hand between her legs and pressed his gun closer to her temple.

“What do you say, Michael?” Trevor challenged.

“We had a deal,” Michael said. “We’re clearing out in the morning.”

“Not before you’re in a grave beside my brother.”

Bruce charged forward, and a shot from Wesley’s gun brought him back to Ken’s prostrate form. Michael breathed hard and ordered the crew to stand down when Trevor tore Sally’s dress from her body.

“Don’t!” Lily screamed as she saw Sally’s naked body trembling in the night. As Sally struggled, Carr tugged at her nipples, and the Diesel Devils were ready to pounce when Bruce pounded Ken’s back with the butt of his gun and glared at Michael.

“Could all be over real quick,” Bruce said. “Come with us, Michael, and the others can go on their merry way.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Michael peered into her eyes, and Lily felt his longing to touch her even as he kept his hands around his gun.

“You’re asking me to trade myself for her. That it, Carr?” Michael asked.

As soon as he spoke, Lily stretched to the tips of her toes and clung to his neck. “No! That’s not what I want. I—”

“Lily.”

Kissing her quickly, Lily clasped his back as she peered at Ken and saw Sally shuddering.

“There has to be another—”

“Lily…”

He tossed his gun to Trevor’s feet and took her into his arms.

“What are you—?”

“I’m just glad that I had the chance to show you what you really were to me.”

He kissed her lips and raised his hands. Lily held her breath as he neared Bruce’s side.

“Do what you gotta do,” Michael said. “I’m here.”

Michael was unarmed. Lily’s eyes curled towards Brendan and Wesley, and she silently pleaded with them to make a stand and stop this. But the boys held back as Michael pressed his hands into the air and knelt by Bruce’s side.

“Do what you gotta do,” Michael said. “Just let her go.”

Bruce aimed his gun at Michael’s head. His eyes slammed shut, and when Lily saw that she was about to lose him, she charged forward and forgot all fear.

“Don’t you dare, you fucker!”

Bruce shifted his aim to Lily, and she paused as the bullet was ready to meet her brain. Ready to die without wanting to, Michael leapt from the sand, and he pressed Lily to the ground as the bullet whizzed over their heads.

“Why?” Michael hissed as he pressed her closer to the sand. “I told you that I—”

“And I don’t want to lose you. I… no!”

Bruce lifted her away from Michael’s side, and he ordered her to open her mouth. Lily pressed her lips together, and a few shots whizzed about her ankles as Bruce darted back and Michael waved his hands in the air.

“Stop!” he screamed. “Let’s just all take a deep breath.”

“Nicely put,” Bruce said as he pushed his hands to Lily’s throat and hissed into her ear.

“Open.”

Reluctantly, Lily curled her lips around the cold metal, and she could almost feel the bullet cutting into her brain when another shot rang out.

“Oh God!”

She fell from Bruce as his slipped to the ground in a bloody heap, and as Lily looked through the strands of her fallen hair, she saw Sophia charging forward with a shotgun in her arms.

Maybe Sophia should be the one in charge.

“Let her go, Carr!” Sophia ordered.

Sally was still in his hold, and when Lily saw her lip quivering, her body shaking, Lily charged forward and pushed Trevor from Sally’s side. His gun fell away, and Lily was on him, his fists flailing as she rained blows on his chest.

“You fucker!” Lily hissed. “You don’t touch her!”

Trevor wrestled her to her back and pressed her into the sand.

“Maybe I could touch you.”

She cringed at the feel of his fingers running up her skirt, and Lily heard Michael’s voice crying for him to stop when a bang hit the hair. Lily saw Trevor’s eyes grow wide, and his bald head started to leak blood into her hair when Michael pushed him away and took Lily in his arms.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked as he smoothed his hands through her hair.

“I’m fine,” Lily said. “I… oh God! Sally!”

She stood with the smoking gun in her hands. Her eyes were blank as she let the gun fall to the sand, and as Wesley helped Ken to his feet, he rushed to her side and took her in his arms.

“Sally,” Ken stated. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be alright.”

Sally’s eyes stayed vacant as Ken dragged her away from the bodies, and when he met Sophia’s eyes, the shotgun still in her hands, he narrowed his gaze on hers.

“What did you do?” Ken challenged.

“Saving your old lady,” she said as she gestured towards Lily as she lifted Michael off the ground. “But it looks like she knows how to hold her own.”

Maybe that was true. The blood pooling around their feet seemed to prove the point. But Sally was in a state of shock as Ken folded her close and pulled the gun from her hands.

“Sally?” he muttered.

Her body went limp in his arms, and even as Ken’s head dripped blood, he found the strength to hoist her into his arms. Ken spoke as he carried Sally away from the scene.

“Bury these bastards,” Ken said. “And get ready to leave now.”

“Uh, Boss?”

Brendan started to challenge him again when Ken whipped his head over Sally’s shoulder and lifted his voice to the night sky. “Three of them are gone.” Ken said. His eyes shifted back to Michael, and he sighed. “Think I’m gonna hand you over for revenge?” he asked. “Think I’m gonna let those fucks put their hands on her?”

He clasped Sally closer, and Lily felt Michael’s hand in hers as he stood tall and gestured towards his crew. “Fuck burying them. Leave them to the birds. Take their colors,” Michael said. “We go now.”

The Diesel Devils rushed into action, and Lily watched as the bloodied bodies were dragged away. Michael barked orders in every direction when she managed to grab his arm and turn him to her side.

“Michael, I—”

“Come with me.”

He pulled her away from the melee and sat her down in a dark shed as he pressed his hands to her face, his fingers seeming to search her skin before she rested his brow to hers.

“He touched you,” Michael muttered. “Even though I—”

“I’m okay,” she swore. “Michael.”

Lily kissed his mouth, and she smiled into his lips as his arms surrounded her waist. As their mouths parted, Lily found his eyes, and she read his expression perfectly. His eyes were full of want and need, and she was ready to follow him into the depths of hell when he seized her face and spoke fast.

“Now we’re really on the run,” he said. “Sophia and Sally are in danger. We all are.”

Michael shuddered under her hold, and Lily gripped his arms tighter as she stared into his moist eyes.

“And me?” Lily whispered.

Taking her into his arms, Michael sighed into her hair, and he ran his hands down her back.

“Not if I do this.”

He pressed a pair of keys into her trembling hands and pushed a canvas cloth from a fresh bike.

“It’s gassed,” Michael said. “Ready to go.”

Confused, even as she held the new set of keys in her hands, Lily stepped to Michael’s side and reached for his face.

“You… you want me to go?” she gasped.

Michael groaned as he took her into her arms and held her close. Lily nearly relaxed in his arms when he pushed her back and peered into her eyes.

“Last thing that I would ever want,” he started. “But you gave me last night. You… you made me believe…” His voice trailed off, and Lily pressed her hand to his back, his scars resting under her touch, and she fell into him as he took a deep breath. “You made me believe that I could love someone again.”

“What?”

“Lily…”

He dragged her face to her lips, and Lily melted into his mouth as his lips surrounded hers. She savored his taste, and she sucked his tongue until she had no choice but to come up for air. When their eyes met again, he gestured towards the other bike, and Lily cocked her head in total confusion.

“You’re sending me away?” she asked.

Michael groaned as he took her back in his arms

“Last thing I want,” he said.

“So… so why…?”

“Because the deal is broken,” Michael said. “Too much blood. And… and the cops are still coming.”

And that would bring her back to Dan. How could she even pretend to be happy with him again when there was a man that had killed for her and would risk his own joy to keep her safe?

“Give me the keys,” Lily said.

Michael hung his head and helped her onto the bike, his hand trailing down the pinned fabric at her back.

“Wait until we’re gone,” he started. “Take off in the other direction. Get as far away from us as you can. And… and…”

Kissing her hard, he curled his arm around her, and when their lips parted, Lily reached for him as he stepped away.

“I thought you never wanted to let me go,” Lily said

“You think this isn’t killing me?” he challenged. “But it’s gonna get dark now,” he said. “Do you want to be on board for that?”

Lily didn’t speak as he stepped from her view. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was too much for her to take, but as she saw Michael mounting his bike, she turned her own bike towards him and raced to his side.

“What are you doing?”

Michael’s eyes were cold as he brought his bike to a stop, and Lily slowed to his side as she brushed her hair from her eyes.

“I’m coming with you,” she said.

“Lily, I told you that you had to—”

He gripped her hands in his. Lily didn’t shrug him off. She held his hands tighter and pressed her brow to his.

“I don’t lie,” she said. “And I want to be with you.”

He started to protest, but as soon as their mouths met in a kiss, Michael relaxed against her body, and when he finally lifted his lips, his fingers stroked her face.

“It’s going to be dangerous,” he said. “I don’t want—”

“Do you want me with you?”

Michael hung his head and nodded. She kissed him again, and Lily held his hand as she sat tall on her bike.

“Let’s go then,” Lily said.

Michael revved up his motor, but before he drove into the dawn, he looked at her again, and his fingers stroked her cheek.

“You gonna stay where I can keep an eye on you?” he asked.

Lily found his lips and kissed him hard before running her fingers down his neck.

“As long as I can keep my eye on you.”

Despite the chill of the desert night air, Lily’s body was dripping with sweat. As her hand gripped the bars of Michael’s spare bike, her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Her body moved with the bike as she worked to keep up with the club. Michael was still in her sights when the bikes started to round a corner. He started to slip away from her point of view when Lily rolled her neck and hit the gas harder.

Not happening. I gave him my word.

Turning with the curve in the road, she started to pass the other members of the crew until she found herself at Sophia’s side. The redhead winked under her helmet and fixed a curious smiled to her face.

“So you really are in this for the long haul?” Sophia asked, voice mingling with the wind that whipped over their bodies and the sand and stones spraying into the air.

“Where else would I want to be?” Lily replied.

Sophia offered no answer to the question and focused on the way ahead. With nothing but the silence and the roar of the engines hitting her ears and flooding her mind, Lily knew that there was someplace else where she could go. Where she should go. Whether it was the law or the Mad Angels that caught up with them first, she was in more danger than now than she had been at her night on the auction block. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, she felt sure that she saw strange bikes not belonging to the Diesel Devils or the flash of red and blue sirens. Which was the worst fate? She had received a taste of the Mad Angel’s treatment. Even with Trevor and Bruce dead and buried in what had to be shallow graves, Noel still breathed. And there would be a price to pay for the club’s most recent transgression. Only thing to do was make tracks and hope that they couldn’t be traced.

Speeding away from Sophia, Lily found her way back to Michael’s side. Leading the charge, he barely registered her presence until she raised her voice to capture some of his attention.

“So what’s the plan?” she called out.

“You having second thoughts?” Michael asked as he denied her his stare and started to turn another corner. Following his lead, Lily managed to catch up and hold her own with him. When he started to pull away from the group, Lily kept up the chase. For a second, the bike rocked in her hands and under her body. Fearing that she might fall, she felt a hand on her back. Startled by the touch, she turned and saw Brendan steadying her in her seat as he gave her a quick nod.

“Easy,” Brendan cautioned. “Think there’s been enough fatalities for one night.”

He moved his bike towards Michael, and Lily slowed up some as the dust swirled under her eyes. The man was right; no way was she going to become one more unmarked grave in the wild stretch of desert sand. Keeping pace with Sophia again, Lily looked furtively over her shoulder and found the woman’s ear.

“So what now?” Lily asked. “We go underground or something?”

“Listen to you,” Sophia teased. “You picked up some of the lingo right quick.”

That was a good thing. Because if she did this, and despite the pictures from her past that still invaded her brain, there was no way she could go back. Not after what she had seen. And the way that Michael made her feel.

“Sophia?”

“Something like that,” Sophia answered as Lily fought to keep up with her pace.

“But what happens if—”

“One turn at a time, honey,” Sophia said. “Let’s just get where we’re going first.”

Wanting more, wanting to know what or if there was a Plan B if the worst came to pass, Lily forced herself to swallow those fears down. She was better off here than if Michael had never staked his claim when Trevor wanted her for something far darker. There was no way to know if she would even still be drawing breath if she’d fallen into the Mad Angels’ hands. No. No this was better. Better for her and far better for…

Sally!

Riding away from Sophia, she drew nearer to Michael. He pointed out a possible route with Brendan at his side. Shouldn’t Ken be privy to this conversation? Where was he now?

Looking back, she failed to find Ken’s face among his crew, and the thought of that scared her more than all the maybes and potential possibilities. Had they already fallen into the wrong hands, and was it just a matter of time before the wrong men caught up with them?

Twisting the bike away from the crew, she heard Sophia’s voice calling after her but tuned her out. If there was trouble, she needed to know. Michael needed to know.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sophia called.

Lily kept moving away from the others. Twisting around that same corner that she had just passed, she heard every motor starting to grind to a halt.

“Lily, hold up!”

Even the sound of Michael’s voice didn’t give her pause. Let him blast her afterwards, punish her as only he could. Despite the danger all around them, she made her mind look forward to that, and the thought that a part of him would be grateful for her investigating whether something happened to Ken and Sally.

At the sight of Ken’s bike resting against the side of the road, Lily hit brakes hard and skidded into a stop. Hopping off with more skill than she knew she possessed, Lily abandoned Michael’s spare bike and rushed towards the pair of them in the sand.

“Ken?” she cried. “Are you okay?”

He quickly twisted his face to hers, and Lily gasped at the sight of the dried blood caked about his cheek. At least the stream of crimson had stopped; that was something. His eyes focused as soon as he saw her.

And he shot to his feet with a cold glare.

“What the hell you think you’re doing?” Ken challenged.

Trying to meet Sally’s eyes as her head hung against her chest, Lily was startled by the feel of Ken’s fingers around her arms. His hold was firm but far from threatening, and Lily met his eyes as he spoke fast.

“Keep up with the others,” Ken said. “We’re right behind you.”

“Doesn’t look that way,” Lily said. “How is she? Is she okay?”

Lily looked past his arm and called out Sally’s name as Ken held her back and shook his head.

“She’s fine,” he swore. “I’m not going to let anything happen to her.”

Catching the crack in his voice, Lily pushed away from him and fell to Sally’s side.

“Are you alright?” Lily asked her friend. “Sally?”

The girl was like a zombie. Breathing and muttering something that almost resembled words as she held her body closer. Alright? Far from it.

“This… this is a mistake,” Lily started.

“Mistake?” Ken echoed. “Only mistake is you—”

“For Christ’s sake, Ken. Look at her! She needs help.”

“And I’m going to give it to her.”

He leaned down to push her off the ground, but Lily pressed her palm into the air and motioned him away as she took Sally’s hand in hers.

“All the way out here?” Lily asked. “Can’t you see how scared she is?”

“I told you that I’m going to—”

“It was self-defense, Ken. She did what she had to do. Any cop worth his shield will—”

As soon as the words started to trip out of her tongue, Lily clapped her hand to her mouth and shook her head furiously. But she was too slow. Sally appeared to register her utterance, and her eyes went wide as she grabbed Lily by her hair and tugged hard.

“I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I’m so sorry! Please don’t send me back. Please!”

Lily tried to ease Sally away from her, careful to cradle the girl’s back as she kept flailing against Lily, against the night, and against the memories of the monster that was her father.

“I didn’t mean it, Sally,” Lily said. “No one’s sending you—”

Before she could finish her statement, Sally curled her fingers tight and crashed her fist into Lily’s eyes. Blinking under the pain, Lily fell to the ground and felt Sally slipping away from her.

“Sally, don’t!” Ken screamed.

Peering through her fingers, Lily saw Sally charging back down to the road, back to the scene of her justifiable crime at a mad pace. Ken struggled to keep up, and Lily added her voice to the chorus calling Sally’s name.

“Sally, wait!” she cried. “I was wrong. I was—”

Her voice came to a halt at the sound of a motor completely revved up. Lifting her eyes, Lily saw Michael’s body come into view, his frame bathed in moonlight as he brought his bike to a stop just before her fallen form. Kicking away from his chopper, he regarded her carefully for all of a second. His lip slightly quivered, and he started to kneel at her side when he held back.

“Thought you weren’t turning back?” he asked.

“I’m… I’m not,” she started. “Just wanted to make sure that Sally was okay.”

Together, their eyes moved down the road, and Lily held her breath as Ken managed to wrestle Sally from fleeing farther away. His tackle was tender as he brought her body to the ground, but she still pounded his back and kicked at the air.

“Bang up job,” Michael said.

Lily started to hang her head in defeat when Ken caught Sally’s face in his hands and gave her no choice but to meet his gaze.

“Look at me,” he pleaded. “Sally, look at me.”

Ken endured a fresh series of blows, but he kept his hands on Sally’s chin until she seemed to tire herself out. As her chest heaved and her arms still shook, Sally’s fists came to rest at her sides, and she spoke softly.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t send me back. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” Ken confessed as he gathered her into his arms. Holding her close, he ran his hands down her back, and Lily was finally able to release a sigh. Was she okay? Hardly. Maybe she never could be. But at least she wasn’t running anymore. That was something.

“Come on,” Ken said as he brought Sally to her feet and lightly kissed her tangled hair. “We need to keep moving.”

As they drew closer, Sally shuddered when she saw Lily on the ground.

“Sally, I—”

“Why are you here?” Sally asked, the clouds starting to leave her eyes.

“I… well…”

Before she could finish her thought, Sally looked to Michael and seemed to tap into some unknown strength as her lips parted.

“And you… you should keep her close,” Sally said, her voice flat but sure. “You wouldn’t want to lose her. Would you?”

Michael said nothing. Made no move. Ken brought Sally back to his bike and kissed her gently as he climbed up behind her. “Don’t want to lose you either,” he whispered. “Let’s get going.”

The two men exchanged a curt nod before Ken got on his bike and sped off with Sally planted firmly in his arms. As the dust of their path hit Lily’s eyes, she felt Michael step closer, his hands clenched to his sides as he spoke slowly.

“What Ken said. Keep up this time.”

Rising to her feet, Lily felt as if she could strike him, but she held back. He had his point, and they had already wasted too much time. She had wasted too much time.

“You know I can.”

Their eyes locked, and Lily felt his hand coming close to her face. Ready to settle into his touch, he suddenly pulled back and mounted his bike again.

“Then show me.”

Ready to ride beside him again, she was prepared to head to the front of the pack whenever Michael deemed it the right move.

But this time, he simply kept up with her pace as the club finally left the road and headed deeper into the desert.

“Far from home. But I guess it’ll do.”

Sophia took charge as she ordered the crew about and instructed the men where to unpack and lay down what had to be temporary stakes. There was no way that they could stay here, just out of plain sight, for any length of time. But it would do for the night.

“Give a girl a hand, would you?”

Falling into the sound of Sophia’s voice, Lily helped her set up shop. They laid all manner of food and smokes and weapons on the sand. Sophia pointed in the various directions that she wanted the stash hidden, and she snapped her fingers as Brendan started to hoist a fresh tent.

“Are you slow, boy?” Sophia asked as she slapped the back of his head.

“What the fuck?” Brendan challenged. “It’s cold out here. We just supposed to sleep out in the—?”

“Look around you, shit for brains.”

Following the path of Sophia’s eyes, Lily took note of the mountains hovering over them. And the promise of many caves concealed within. Catching Sophia’s drift, Lily lightly took Sophia by the arm and pressed her lips to her ear.

“You should keep the guns close,” Lily suggested.

“That’s a thought,” Sophia said. “But not too close that someone can sneak up and take them out from under us.”

Realizing that she was right, that Sophia still knew better, Lily stayed silent as Sophia sent Brendan off to stock their makeshift arsenal. Sophia decreed that the bikes should hide and Ken quickly agreed. Michael did nothing but shoot her a quick glace before he took off into the distance. Asking him where he was going, Sophia shook her head and cautioned her to stay silent.

Give him his space. He’ll be back.

Lily hoped for that much. This time she had stayed at his side and kept close. And she half—no—she fully expected him to hold her, to kiss her once they came to a stop together. At the very least, he could have smiled. But he just took off. Looking for his return every couple of seconds, Lily told herself that she could stand strong without him. Maybe she would just stick around to get a rise out of him. She wanted it the other way of around, but as soon as she saw Sally rocking back and forth under a ratty blanket, Lily sighed and approached her tentatively.

“Sally?” Lily started. “Are you—?”

“Careful,” Ken said as he stepped close to them, his hand on Sally’s shoulder as he kept his eyes on Lily. “I won’t have you upset her again.”

“I—”

“Because I can take care of her just fine,” Ken continued. “You got that?”

The ice in his eyes told Lily that she would be a fool to cross him in this moment, and she lowered her head with a slight nod. “I do,” Lily said. “Guess I shouldn’t have talked out of turn.”

“There it is,” Sophia said as she passed by with Brendan at her heels. “How about you just hunker down and wait for your boy.”

Lily felt every sound in the air leave the scene as she scanned her new surroundings. What had looked like an impromptu tailgate became a warm series of tombstones as the bikes and the artillery and the men themselves took cover under the mass of cold mouths of rock. Ken waited until the bulk of the job was done, surveying the scene carefully. Lily took note of the struggle working its way around his soul. This was still his brother’s group, his family. Of course he had to wait until the last possible moment to hide with the others. But his gaze kept shifting towards Sally as the girl seemed to calm even as her teeth still chattered.

“Ken?”

Sophia cut in on the scene of his hesitation and Sally’s despair and took his hand.

“Got a place ready for the two of you,” Sophia said. “Let’s say you get her out of the night air?”

Ken stayed tense until Sophia patted his cheek and smiled softly.

“It’s all handled,” Sophia said. “And believe me. Your brother would be mighty proud.”

Blushing under the moonlight, Ken bowed his head as he took her hand. “Of you,” he said. “Not of me.”

“Tell your girl that.”

Lily saw Sophia’s thumb jerk in Sally’s direction, and her heart lifted when the girl finally managed a smile. Sure it was weak, but her lips still curled towards her eyes as she extended her hand.

“Are we safe now?” Sally asked in a small voice.

Sophia nudged Ken forward, and he brought Sally to her feet and cupped her chin in his hands.

“You’re safe with me,” he assured her. “Nothing can change that.”

He kissed her softly and curled her body under his arm.

“Let’s say we try to get some shuteye.”

Watching him leave with Sally under his arm, Lily bit down on her lip. How could Sally even manage to think straight after everything that she had endured? Ken lifted her into his arms and carried her deeper into the darkness when Lily bristled at the feel of Sophia’s hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?” Sophia asked.

There was no way that she could say yes and be completely truthful. Hiding out like this only put the point on how they were still being pursued by too many strands of the past. But Lily forced a smile and nodded her head.

“Sure,” Lily started. “And he… do you really think that he’s coming back?”

“See for yourself.”

The sound of an engine hit the air, and Lily narrowed her eyes. As soon as the moonlight hit his face, she took Sophia at her word. Michael sped closer, and Lily started to move to him when Sophia suddenly held her back.

“What are you—?”

“Just be straight with him,” Sophia advised. “He cleans up nice when he gets the truth.”

Kicking his bike aside, Michael held his ground, his feet pressed to the sand. Watching with an anxious heart, Lily took Sophia’s hand even as she felt Michael’s eyes burrowing into her soul. He started to lift his hands. But then he pressed them into his pockets. Was he suddenly being coy? Did he want to apologize for doubting her strength when it came to following the club into parts unknown? Lily stated to stand up taller when Michael simply plucked a smoke from his pack and struck a match on the heel of his boot. Sucking the cigarette, a wave of smoke curled around her face. Lily fought the urge to blink the haze away, and she thought she saw him smile as she kept her eyes fixed in his direction.

“Don’t stay out of in the cold too long,” Sophia said as she tousled Lily’s hair. “Make nice and get some rest. We all got some long days ahead of us.” Arching her eyebrow before she turned on her heel, Sophia went into hiding as Michael stepped closer.

“Club getting settled?” Michael asked as he took another drag and kept his eyes on hers. Lily inhaled the smoke, almost savoring the scent as he stood before her. Meeting his eyes, she started to nod but suddenly stopped the bob of her head as she folded her arms across her chest.

“More than I can say for you?” she said.

“Needed to clear my head,” Michael said as he sucked on his cigarette, his eyes trailing up and down her body.

“And did you?” Lily asked.

Tossing his cigarette to the sand and snuffing it out with the toe of his boot, Michael pressed his hands to his hips and stared at her hard.

“I think so,” he said. “Came back to you. Didn’t I?”

She moved closer to kiss him and felt his arm swirl around her waist when she pressed her palms to his chest and tilted her head to the side.

“And you were so sure that I’d be here?” she asked. “Like I’d just be waiting for you?”

Michael started to challenge her when his face went dark, even under the light of the moon. Lily’s first instinct was to just hold him and tell him that there was nowhere else that she would rather be. But her body stayed stiff as Michael curled his fingers under her chin.

“I knew you would,” he said. “But I’m still kind of surprised.”

Falling closer to him, Lily felt his warm breath racing down her neck. His arm unfolded around her back. Inhaling the sand and the sweat that covered his tight flesh, her lips nearly hit his skin when she pushed away from him.

“You have a fine way of showing it,” Lily challenged. “What is this? Not even a nice to see you .”

Michael sneered, but Lily held her ground as he started to shift away from her. Because he would come back to her. Wouldn’t he?

“Then that’s on you,” Michael said. “Can’t exactly get into your head.”

A load of horseshit if she had ever smelled it. Into her head? He was under her skin, pushing up against her soul. And he had to know that. But Lily played coy as he turned back to her eyes.

“But I can do other things to you,” he purred.

Keeping her body under his hands, Lily leaned back with a light moan as his fingers reached under her blouse and his lips hit the back of her neck. She felt his cock already poking through his jeans as he turned his hips around her ass. Ready to give into him right then and there, Lily recovered to the point where she was able to just find his hand. As their fingers mingled around one another, she captured all of his touch in hers with a soft sigh.

“Can you?” she asked. “You gonna prove it here and now? Right out in the open?”

She had the sensation of countless unseen eyes running up and down her body as Michael turned her back to his chest, his hands moving towards her cheeks as he stroked her face softly. “Now is that smart?” he said. “Don’t you know that we’re still in danger?”

“I… I know that,” she murmured. “I just…”

Lily’s voice trailed off and she tried to pull away from him when Michael’s hold tightened around her arms, giving her nowhere to look but his eyes, nothing to savor but his touch.

“You just want another taste,” he teased. “Am I calling it right?”

His hands moved to her blouse, and as he pried a single button from its hole, he curled his finger around the edge of her breasts. She shuddered and sighed at the feel if his hand, and as she reached up to take his fingers in hers, Michael pushed back and shook his head.

“But we really should take cover,” he said. “We have things to talk about first.”

Lily nearly laughed at the idea, the reality of him suddenly so serious. But when he failed to wink and transform it into just another step in whatever dance they were doing, Lily leaned into the feel of her body tensing even as she stayed in his arms.

“What do you… what do you suggest?” she asked.

He carried her back to his bike and pressed her body into the seat. Climbing behind her, his feet hit the pedals, and the motor purred underneath them as his lips met her ear.

“Found a little place where it can be just us,” he promised. “You want to come with?”

Turning her head over her shoulder, Lily met his eyes and nodded softly.

“I do,” she confessed, her hands daring to touch his cheek as his brow fell to hers. Their lips nearly met, when Lily summoned the strength to look ahead even as she kept her hand on his arm.

“Take me,” she said. “Show me where you want us to go.”

“Here we are.”

Lily took a few slow steps into the dark recesses of a far off cave. Far enough away from the rest of the crew that no one could hear her scream if he touched her again.

And she wanted him to do just that.

Turning towards him, she was quick to wrap her arms around his neck, her lips dotting his face as she clung to his back.

“You missed me that much?” he asked.

“Like you have to ask.”

She was glad to hear him sharing something of his heart, and she moved closer to claim his lips.

“Michael, I…”

Their mouths were at the point of touching when he suddenly pushed away and turned his head. “We have to talk.”

“Don’t you want to know more than that?”

Not leaving him any room to answer, Lily pulled him closer and kissed him hard. His tongue spun around hers, and she felt her lips curling into a smile at the feel of his cock pressing against her hip.

Just take me again. We’ll figure the rest out later. Please, Michael.

He started to lower his zipper, and Lily hiked up her skirt to know all of him, to feel him entering her. The tip of his cock grazed her wet pussy, and she started to spread her legs wider, wanting nothing more than to recall all of him inside her.

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned as he started to push deeper. Lily savored his cock, the feel of her flesh encasing his as he groaned into her neck. Pulling her head away from his chest, Michael kept her at arm’s length as his eyes drove into her soul.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he said. “I wanted to talk.”

“Yeah right.” Lily smirked as she started to curve her limbs around his body. His hands met her back, and she was ready for him to lift her body into the air and press her body into the walls of stone. He could take her there; she would not protest. Her fingers brushed through his hair, and their lips were on the verge of meeting again when he turned away from her with a tight groan and closed his eyes.

“What happened?” she asked. “I… I thought you wanted me?”

Blinking through her confusion, Lily tensed until Michael pressed his fingers to her face and nodded slowly.

“I do,” he said. “But that’s the problem.”

He finally lifted her into his arms, and Lily clung to him as he brought her body to the sandy floor. Focusing around the darkness, her eyes narrowed, and she touched his face.

“Michael?”

His jaw was tight; his lips tense. Lily lowered her hand down his sides, and as soon as she met his fingers, he kept her touch close with one had while his free palm touched the top of her head.

“Don’t think I don’t want you,” he said as he stroked her hair. “I’m going crazy just being this close to you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” she asked. “We’re safe for tonight. So why are you—?”

“Because there’s always going to be a tomorrow night.”

Lily tried to kiss him again when he pulled away with a sharp groan. Her mouth watered as he stretched to his feet, and she licked her lips as he strolled away from her. As soon as his body hit the way out, Michael gazed out into the night and released a heavy sigh.

“I’m… I’m glad I get to say goodbye to you,” he said.

“Goodbye? Why would you say that?”

On her feet, Lily rushed to his side and held his back under her hands. She felt him sigh under her touch, and when he started to fall back into her, Lily’s arms eased around his waist. Her fingers danced closer to his cock when he surrounded her feet and suddenly pushed away from her.

“Because it’s too risky,” he said. “And you just can’t stay here. Not with me.”

Michael kept his eyes from hers, and Lily struggled to find her footing in the space of his touch. He seemed committed to his sudden plan.

But Lily wasn’t going down without a choice.

“I think that’s up to me,” she said.

“Lily, I—”

“When I said that I wanted to be with you, I meant it.”

He started to speak again, and she silenced him with a new kiss. As their mouths mingled, she moved her hands to his waist, ready to lower his jeans when his fingers surrounded her wrists, and he pulled her arms over her head.

“What?” she asked. “Do you want me to beg?”

“No,” Michael said, his voice thick as he softly kissed her hair. “And I don’t want you to go.”

Lily squirmed against him, her body eager for more of his touch when he released her. Lily’s hands fell reluctantly, and she strained towards the tips of his fingers, biting back her need for more of him as he shook his head and spoke softly.

“There’s going to be a price to pay,” he started.

“And Ken said that he would keep Sally safe.”

“It’s not Sally that I’m worried about. It’s you.”

Lily’s eyes glazed in confusion as she tried to touch his face. His skin nearly rested against her fingers when he turned away sharply and clenched his fists to his sides.

“Mad Angels get a hold of you,” he started. “And you’ll… I know that…”

He couldn’t finish the thought. Seeing the agony in his eyes, Lily tried to hold him when he surprised her by taking hold of her wrists again. But instead of pressing her arms over his head, he brought her hands to his mouth and whispered into her fingers.

“I can’t stand the thought of that happening to you,” he muttered. “You can still go if you want. Get away from all of this. Leave it behind.”

Lily didn’t know if she should rage at the man or walk away in despair. Her feelings were somewhere in the middle, and she latched onto that emotion as she struggled back to the surface and touched his face and shook her head. “I told you I’m not going,” she whispered. “I want to be with you.”

Michael’s eyes sparkled, and he started to kiss her lips when he pulled back again and shook his head against his shoulders. “Nowhere else you need to be?” he asked.

“Like you cared about that when to you took—”

“I care about it now.”

His voice was barely a whisper, far from what she expected, but Lily held her tongue as he touched her cheek and moaned into her ear.

‘”If you were mine, I would miss you every second of my life,” he said.

“Michael, don’t—”

“Who’s missing you now?” he asked. “Must be someone that wants to see you come home.”

A sob caught in her throat, and as he kept stroking her cheeks, she remembered her mother’s hands against her face.

“My mom,” she muttered. “I’m sure she’s going all kinds of crazy.”

“Okay,” he started. “So don’t you want to make like the good daughter and put all her fears to rest?”

Lily’s mind curled around the possibility. He had a point. Her mother would be more than overjoyed to know she was alright. But maybe, in a far off moment when the danger had passed, Lily could find some way to make contact.

But on the other hand…

“I was never anyone’s idea of a good daughter,” she said.

“Like you’re such a bad ass.”

“Maybe just a little around the edges,” Lily answered. “I certainly wasn’t my daddy’s idea of his little girl.”

If she ever made contact or somehow found her way back home, Craig Nielsen was sure to make a point of reminding her of her shortcomings and accusing her of seeking out whatever bad thing had or might have happened to her during her time away from the fold.

But Michael did not fall into that category.

Straining to kiss him, she felt Michael melting into her mouth. But he suddenly pulled back and ran his fingers through her fallen hair.

“Now why do I kind of buy that?” he said.

“Because you know the real me,” Lily said. “The one that wants more of this.”

Lowering his fly, she felt his cock pulse into her hand and began a slow, smooth stroke. Groaning under the feel of her fingers, Michael pressed against her body as they sank into the sand. Gliding her body to her back, Michael slipped inside and reached under her. Mirroring his smile when he found her cunt warm and wet, she started to kiss him again when he laid his brow against hers.

“So you telling me that this is always you under the sheets?” he asked.

“What sheets?” she asked. “Nothing here but you and me and the night.”

Pulling her skirt down her legs, Michael buried his face into her mound, his tongue lapping against her soft flesh as she threw her arms back with a grateful sigh. Fighting the urge to touch him, to hold him close, Lily focused on nothing but his skillful licks as his tongue darted in and out of the soft folds of her cunt. Taking his time with her mound, Michael painted an invisible circle around her pussy, and when she felt as if she could no longer resist the urge to bring her hands to his back and tear his shirt away, he invaded all of her sensitive flesh.

“And… and that’s more than enough for me,” she gasped, her climax spilling across his tongue. Michael drank her desire down, his head lingering between her legs as he palmed her thighs and whispered into her limbs.

“Do you really expect me to believe that you’ve never done any of this before?”

Not with Dan. Certainly not with Dan. The idea of kissing her was one thing. But if she ever suggested that he use his mouth to bring her another form of pleasure, he made no attempt to hide the distasteful grimace that always crossed his face. He thought it a dirty request not worthy of a wife, and she took Michael’s face in her hands and nodded her head in total honesty.

“There’s never been anyone like you for me,” she whispered.

Pushing him to his back, she tore his shirt from his broad chest. She fell into his tight flesh, caressed his pecs, and bathed his ink with eager kisses.

“But there had to be someone?” he asked, his voice contradicting his hands as he slashed her blouse from her body. Grabbing her breasts in his hard hands, he twisted her nipples and forced her to her back. Straddling her hips, Michael cupped her chin and gave her no choice, nowhere else to focus but his eyes, sparkling above her as his hot breath pooled between her breasts.

“Someone else who might be missing you?” he challenged as he arched his eyebrow and kept her body fixed to the sand.

Again her mind turned to Dan. Boring as he was under the sheets, figurative or otherwise, the man was far from a total monster. Did he kick himself day after day, shaking at the thought of what had happened to her? No. No that didn’t seem his style. But he had to feel some guilt over how that had parted. Maybe Lily did, too.

But this was far from the time or the place. Not when Michael was so close and she just wanted, needed more of him.

“No one important.” she said. “No one like you.”

He tilted his head, and Lily tensed at the possibility that he was about to push the point and bring Dan between them. There was far greater danger likely lurking down the road, and before he could ask another question, she shot up straight and wrapped her arms around his neck. Crushing her mouth to his, she dragged her fingers towards his head and held him tight.

“Please, let’s stop talking,” Lily begged. “Just be with me again. Right now.”

Her hand moved to his hard cock, and she parted her thighs, giving her body to him. Michael’s cock grazed against her moist mound, and he met her eyes as her flesh started to encase his.

“Lie back,” he ordered, his eyes flashing.

Lily bit her tongue and offered no protest. Collapsing into the sand, her mouth watered at the sight of Michael’s lithe form hovering over her, the moonlight blaring over his shoulder. His cock held her in suspense, and she started to turn around him when he snapped his fingers.

“Wait,” he hissed.

Trapped around his cock, Lily pushed her palms into the sand and fought to honor his request. If she was good, if she waited until he made the next move, the reward would be sweet. But still she shuddered underneath him, around him.

“Lily…”

He fell forward ever so slightly and touched his finger to her cheek. Shivering at the feel of his hand on her face, Lily’s eyes fluttered shut, and she tried to savor his hand even as she wanted so much more. Daring to turn her head closer to hand, she heard the air passing between his teeth as he lightly tapped her cheek.

“Not until I say so,” he cautioned.

Looking into his eyes again, she swallowed hard. This was how he wanted her; it was how she wanted him.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “But please. Please don’t make me wait too long.”

“Thought you said you weren’t going anywhere?”

Lily’s mind spun as she tried to keep pace with the thoughts racing behind his eyes. Go. Don’t stay. Tell me I’m the only one. Weren’t there others?

Tripping close to what felt like a kind of madness, Lily forgot his needs and pushed forward. “I won’t!” she gasped. “I can’t.”

Stretching towards him, Lily sighed at the feel of him falling closer to his cock. Fearing that he would push away from her and leave her to crawl her way back to camp through the sand and the dust, Michael surprised her with his arm around her waist as he pulled her to his chest and granted her some rest against his skin.

“Show me,” he said. “Show me why I should risk this.”

Perched on his cock, Lily started to kiss his arms again when he released her from his hold. Reaching into the air, Lily knew that she had no chance of holding his arms, his hands. Pressing her hands to her face, she groaned into her palms and started to sink into despair.

But she still had his cock inside her.

“I’ll show you,” she whispered. I’ll make you believe me.

Stretching her arms back, Lily touched his limbs and forced all of her focus on the pulse of his cock buried in her cunt. Moving her hips around his, she nearly groaned in despair when he stayed still all around her.

Give me more. Give me something…

Michael pushed his fingers to the small of her back. Sighing at more of his touch, Lily met his eyes. Seeing the smile in his stare, Lily felt sure that she could keep him close, make him believe her, and she started to twist around him. Her cunt spread wider, and Lily started to rock against him as she stretched her arms over her head. Pushing into him, she felt his body lifting toward hers, but kept her fingers locked behind her hair. Her mind, her body narrowed to the length of his cock, and her pussy surrounded more of him. Blinking back tears, sweat dripping from her brow, Lily rode his body to a place where her arms trembled as she longed to touch him.

“Do you believe me now?” Lily moaned as she crashed her cunt into his cock. His body arched as he finally drew nearer to her, and she cried as his arms surrounded her waist and clasped her close to his chest. Sighing into his shoulders, Lily shuddered at the feel of his lips dotting her skin, and when their eyes met again, he stared at her hard and brought his hand to her face.

“Almost,” he said. “But let’s see if you can make me sure.”

Moving to ride him again, Lily was stunned when he forced her body back to the sand. Locking her wrists in place, Michael took command of her pussy. His cock sank deeper, and she started to twirl her legs around his when he suddenly pulled back.

“Don’t!” she pleaded. “How can I show you—?”

“You can scream for me now.”

Driving all of his cock inside of her, Lily’s body buckled, and her flesh grew wider to take him in. He exploded inside her, and she gave him what she wanted, her voice racing across the desert sands in a grateful cry as Michael smiled above her, tensing around his cock. He waited until the scream left her lips, and then he finally fell on top of her.

“Fucking god…”

Sighing into her hair, Michael panted into her ear and kissed her cheeks. Quivering underneath him, Lily waited without moving, whimpering at the feel of his cock softening inside her. But he stayed with her as his fingers finally met her face.

“I believe that,” he whispered as his lips touched hers, and Lily took him in her arms as she cuddled closer to his chest. His hands ran down her back, and she kissed his cheeks. Dragging her lips to his, she paused before him and shot him a smile.

“Just keep doing that,” she said. “We’re going to get through this. We’ll come out the other side.”

“Let’s just stay here for now.”

Nodding into his neck, Lily settled her body against his and relaxed in his embrace. They would be okay. Maybe all of the past could stay just that. Thinking of having to ride again at first light, Lily trembled in near excitement at the prospect. This time she would keep close to him, never look back. Finding his eyes again, Lily touched his cheek and softly kissed his lips again.

“Okay with me,” she purred. “For as long as you want.”

He held her tighter, his lips on her neck as his hands moved down her legs. Winding her limbs around his, she pushed her fingers under his chin and lingered in his eyes.

“You want forever?” she asked.

“Can you promise me that?”

Lily started to speak when the roar of bikes and a hail of gunfire pushed them apart.

“What the fuck?” Michael asked as he walked deeper into the night, still as naked as the day he was born. Lily hurried to her feet and grabbed his back, following the path of his eyes as his gaze shifted back to the Diesel Devils’ sudden camp.

“Shit!” he hissed. “We got to get back.”

Michael dressed quickly, but Lily stood like a statue as his firm flesh left her line of sight. Seeming to forget her, he started towards his bike when he suddenly turned back, his gaze piercing hers.

“You coming?” he asked.

“I…”

“Because you can stay here,” he said as he charged forward and grabbed her arms. “Stay hidden. Stay safe.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, her face falling.

“I don’t want—”

Another hail of bullets cracked in the air, and Lily curled closer to him. Michael folded his arms around her bare body, and Lily pondered the idea of taking him up on his offer. Should she just stay her and wait, hope that he would come back? But how would she survive if this was the last time that they ever touched? And what about the others that might be left behind?

“Hold on,” she said.

Pulling her body into her blouse, her skirt, Lily took his hand. Squeezing it hard, Lily kissed his lips and nodded forward.

“I’m with you,” Lily promised. “Always.”

Clutching Michael’s back, Lily breathed in the scent of his sweat dripping off his neck as he raced back to their temporary home. The sound of more gunshots rang through the air, and Lily nearly lifted her lips to his ears and told him that they should slow up and at least see what was up before he made his move. She stopped when she caught the light in his eye and the sneer curling across his lips. There was no way that he was turning back. And if she was going to stay with him, she had to stay along for the ride.

Nearing the camp, Michael suddenly slowed up. Kicking his chopper to a stop, he lifted Lily into his eyes and held her close to his side as he drew his gun.

“Stay close,” he whispered. “Where I can see you.”

“I won’t go anywhere else,” Lily said as she held his arms.

As they stepped across the shadows cast by the peaks of the mountains, Lily’s eyes went wide at the sight of Noel and his minions dragging the Diesel Devils from their makeshift hiding place. Boots met shins and sides, and guns pointed at every head as Noel clapped his hands together and raised his voice.

“Blood on someone’s hands!” He bellowed. “Always heard this one had a trigger finger.”

Lily gasped against Michael’s back at the sight of Sophia’s body pushed into the sand. Her shotgun was nowhere to be seen, but she didn’t hide her face in her hands and stared up at Noel as she spit into his eye.

“Then take me out if you’re so fucking sure,” she said. “Put me down.”

Noel’s gun was at her head when Ken wriggled away from the men trying to hold him back. Seizing the barrel of the gun in his hands, he pressed it over his head, and Lily shuddered as a fresh shot hit the hair. Michael was already on the move, Lily unable to hold him back, when Michael fired his gun at Noel’s legs and pointed his gun at every Mad Angel waiting to lay waste to his crew.

“Look who’s here!” Noel sneered. “Where you been off to, boy?”

Lily felt Noel’s eyes on her body barely hidden in the shadows, and she started back to Michael’s side when he waved her off, silently keeping her feet fixed to the place where she now stood. His wish. Not Noel’s.

But the Mad Angel emitted a cold laugh under his mustache.

“I could tell him stories about you,” Noel smirked.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Michael looked ready to kill when every gun pointed at his head. Lily screamed into her hands when Noel aimed his piece over her shoulder and promised a gun between her eyes if she did so much as blink.

“You want me to waste her right here, right now?” Noel asked. “No skin off my nose, boy.”

Michael seethed and seemed ready to shoot when he shot Lily a quick glance. His eyes seemed to soften when he met her stare, and Michael curled his tongue against his cheek before tossing his gun to the ground and throwing his hands into the air.

“Leave her out of it,” Michael hissed. “This is between us.”

Noel smirked at Lily before turning his attention back to Ken’s crumpled form struggling for breath at Sophia’s side.

“Fair enough,” Noel started. “From what I hear, runaway pussy ain’t no murderer.”

Lily nodded at that, but she still held back as Noel grabbed Ken by the scruff of his neck and pressed his gun to the man’s temple.

“But one of you fuckers is,” Noel continued. “So where do I lodge the bullet?”

“Me,” Sophia said without missing a beat. “I… shit!”

Noel crushed his knee into her side, and Sophia crumpled. Down but not out, the redhead tried to stretch to her knees again when Noel slapped his hand across the face and wrapped his arm around Ken’s neck as he forced him to his feet.

“Didn’t look like a shotgun,” Noel said. “Looked like a lucky shot if ever there was one.”

He smirked at Michael and curled his finger around his trigger.

“You get lucky?” Noel asked Michael. “You take them out?”

Michael stared to confess, and Lily stepped across the sand, her feet feeling as if they were running through mud when a new voice hit the air.

“It was me!”

All eyes turned to Sally as she scampered through the shadows and fell to Ken’s feet. Groaning as he tried to hold her, Ken nearly had her under her arms when Noel pushed him back, seemingly ready to shoot.

“Your slit speaking truth?” Noel asked. “Should we just take her sweet ass now and turn her out to make up the difference?”

Ken appeared to fume under his collar and tried to wrestle the gun away from his hands. A bullet nearly hit his leg when Sally screamed and Sophia dragged her hand across her face. Lily’s eyes darted in every direction as Michael tucked, rolled, and picked his gun back up in his hands. Stretching to his full height, Michael managed to push the barrel of his gun close to Noel’s chest as every Mad Angel looked ready to kill. Lily shuddered until Noel waved his men off. “Not the big payoff,” Noel warned. “We just needed to see them cutting and running.”

He let Ken’s body fall to the ground and kicked him aside as he stood toe-to-toe with Michael.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Michael challenged. “You here to finish the job or not?”

Before he could answer, Lily rushed to him and held his arm, her lips pressed against his ear. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I told you to stay—”

“How about you tell him the truth, baby?” Noel asked.

Not knowing what he wanted to hear, what she should say next, Lily curled against Michael’s back. Blinking, she saw Sophia with Sally at her side. Ken was struggling to breathe as Sophia worked with Sally to bring him out of the line of fire.

“Take him,” Sophia said before she rolled to one of so many sudden hiding places and retrieved her shotgun. “Try that again.” She pumped the action. “You should know that I don’t make a habit of missing.”

“Not why we’re here, boys,” Noel said, recognizing that his advantage was lost. “Clear out.”

Noel managed only a single step when he laughed. The forward push of his fingers caused Lily to cringe, but Noel tapped Michael’s tense cheek as his smirk grew wider.

“Bills are better than blood,” Noel started. “Word is your little bitch’s people are putting up good money to see her back in one piece.”

Lily shouldn’t have expected anything less, and Noel backed away with a cold threat.

“So you boys run,” Noel continued. “Slit’s family we’ll pay a primo reward for our intel.”

Her mind raced around his words? Reward? Her mother must have put up a fight and a half to get her father to put up any of his good money. Craig Nielsen was probably all too ready to chalk her up to a lost cause and move on with what was left of his life. But courtesy of Corinne, there was a price on her head, and she started to whisper to Michael that they could still get past this, run further west and regroup when Noel mounted his bike and let loose a shrill whistle.

“How you gonna compete with her fiancé, stud?” Noel asked. “He has the bucks to keep her muff in check. Gonna be a cold day in hell before she stays with you in the sand.”

The Mad Angels rode off, and as soon as their bikes hit the horizon, Lily turned around Michael and tried to take her face in hands.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Are you—?”

Gasping as he slapped her hands away, Michael’s sorrow seemed to radiate off of him in dark waves.

“Fiancé?”

Lily tried to speak fast.

“It’s… it’s not what you think,” she started. “It’s not even really.”

“So you are just a tease,” he said. “And there was someone else.”

Fuck!

Lily should have come clean from the start and laid all her secrets at her feet. Never in a million years would she have thought that Dan would somehow, maybe without her knowing, creep between them. And given time, she would have come clean.

But it suddenly felt as if time had run out.

Michael pushed away from her and turned all of his attention to Ken. Pushing him up from the sand, Michael brushed him off and grabbed his shoulders. “You okay, man?” Michael asked.

Ken shrugged him off, still wobbly on his legs as Sophia caught him under her free arm with Sally at his back. He met the girl’s eyes and gently touched her face.

“Don’t be scared,” he sputtered. “We’re getting out of this. We…”

Ken started to fall back to his knees. Sally cried out when Michael lifted him into his arms and signaled to the rest of his crew. “Let’s get him a rack in this place,” he started. “We’ll figure it out.”

Lily started to follow when Michael’s eyes turned over his shoulder in a sharp glare.

“Not you,” he said. “Not now.”

Feeling him slipping away from her, Lily started to fall to the sand when a strong arm suddenly surrounded her back.

“Easy, honey,” Sophia crooned.

As Michael started to slip into the shadows, Lily watched Sally find her footing as she made her way to Ken’s back.

“I want to come,” she said in a shaky voice. “Can… can I?”

Michael smiled at her softly, the smile that Lily wished he would turn toward he eyes when he stiffly patted her cheek and signaled the way ahead with a nod.

“At least you didn’t lie to Ken,” Michael started. “From what I hear, all your cards are on the table.

Sally took Ken’s hand is hers, and as the crew hid under a new slab of stone, Lily fought against the tears in her eyes as Sophia wrapped pressed her arm around her shoulder.

“A lot in a short time,” Sophia started. “I know that I could use a drink. You?”

Nearly dazed, Lily let Sophia lead her to her makeshift home. The pillows were gone, but a sheet of pink rested against the stone as Sophia sat her down and kept her under his arm.

“Something you didn’t tell him?” Sophia asked.

Lily tried to speak when her wanted words only came out in a series of frustrated sobs. “It doesn’t matter!” she said. “Not anymore. I… I never felt those things with Dan. I never…”

She stopped short of saying that she loved him. It was too wild, and no doubt he wouldn’t believe it. Especially not now. Sophia fished her bottle of vodka from her satchel along with a plastic medicine cup. Preparing the shot, she passed the cup to Lily and kept the bottle for herself.

“Not feeling super generous, are you?” Lily asked bitterly as she downed the shot and instantly held out the cup for another.

“Didn’t know you were looking to get hammered,” Sophia said.

“Not hammered,” Lily countered. “Just numb.”

With a small smirk, Sophia topped off her cup and slowly sipped from the neck of the bottle as Lily drank deep and asked for a third hit. Taking her time in honoring this next request, Lily smoothed her hands across her face, tears coming to her eyes at the memory of Michael’s hands on her skin, running through her hair. How could he just take off without giving her a chance to spill her side of the story? It was only a lie of omission, and it wasn’t like he didn’t have a past. But where Michael’s love was brutally murdered and tragically buried, Dan could come back. Hell, he might even have kicked in for the so-called reward. Did he actually want her back? And what would that mean for the club?

“One more sip,” Sophia said. “Don’t need you plastered when he gets around to seeking you out.”

Turning her head around the drink, Lily wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sighed heavily. “He won’t come back,” Lily said sadly.

“Honey, he—”

“He asked me flat out, okay,” she started. “Just now. Just before…”

Shuddering at the thought of Noel and his Mad Angels finding them so easily, she imagined all the things that could have gone wrong even as her mind fixed on Noel’s promise. Strange sort of outlaw that would use the cops to mark his territory to dispatch his enemies.

“Don’t buy everything you hear,” Sophia said. “Chances are Noel just wants to get his hands on the green and keep us running scared.”

A small shred of hope swelled around Lily’s heart, and she set her cup aside in the sand as she stared into the redhead’s eyes.

“So you think he’s having us on?” Lily asked. “But we still ran. Why did we do that if—?”

“Because with or without Noel and his boys, Ken’s girl has more to fear than a turf war. And for better or for worse, the bastard’s still calling the shots.”

And at the moment, for the first time, she thought that it was definitely for the better. Right on cue, Sally appeared with Brendan at her side. Lily shot up and started as soon as she saw her, and Sophia seemed to brush off any buzz from her bottle.

Straightening her shoulders, Sophia regarded Sally with a sympathetic smile and a light hand against her hair before turning all her attention to Brendan. “Problem?” she asked in a steady voice.

“We need your touch to patch him up,” Brendan said.

“What would you boys do without me?” Sophia asked with a weary smile. Reaching into her pack again, she retrieved a small metal box and ordered Brendan to lead the way.

“No worries,” she said to Sally. “I’ll make him right as rain.”

Sophia appeared to expect Sally to follow quickly, but the girl managed to hold her ground as she fixed her gaze on Lily’s eyes.

“She wants to talk to Michael’s girl,” Brendan said. “Ken wanted me to walk her here. You know. Just in case.”

Michael’s girl. Lily felt like that in the space of his arms, lingering around his cock. But now she was alone. Part of her kicked herself for believing in him; a greater part of her just wanted him back.

“Smart man,” Sophia said. “Man can never be too careful.”

As she tracked off into the night, Lily expected Brendan to follow her lead. But he stayed where he stood.

“I’m here to keep watch.” He explained.

It was cold comfort if that.

“Michael ask you to do that?” Lily asked as she pressed her hands to her hips and arched her eyebrow.

“Not you,” Brendan said. “I’m looking after this one.”

Brendan’s words shredded her soul, but as she focused on Sally trembling before her, Lily shrugged off her frustration and drew the girl close to her side.

“A little privacy would be nice,” Lily said.

Brendan’s lips curled into a sharp sneer. “Got some other dirt to spill?” he asked. “What else don’t he know about you?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Lily said. “So why don’t you just keep an eye out a few feet away? Or play with yourself for all I care. Can you do that, or do we need to watch to get you off?”

He shuffled his feet and blushed under the weight of her insult. Stepping back into the night, Brendan hissed at Lily, and he was nearly gone when his eyes fell of Sally.

“You call when you want to go back,” he said. “I’ll be right—”

“And I won’t be long,”

Nodding his head, Brendan took off, and as soon as they were alone, she clutched Lily’s hand and dragged her deep into a dark corner.

“Sally, what is—?”

“Shhh.”

Pressing her finger to Lily’s lips, Sally shuddered as she fell to her knees, and Lily was quick to follow her move and grab her shaking shoulders.

“Promise me that he won’t do it,” she muttered.

“What do you—?”

“Ken swears that he won’t,” she continued, her voice a ragged whisper as she clutched Lily’s hand, her trembles intensifying as she struggled to speak.

“Ken says we’ll be okay,” Sally managed. “All of them do. But… but I want to hear it from you.”

“I… I don’t—”

“Tell me that it’s a lie,” Sally pleaded. “That they’re not looking for you.”

Lily started to speak, but stopped herself on the length of the lie. Sally’s eyes brimmed as she gazed up at her, pleading, and Lily hung her head as her shoulders heaved. “You know I can’t say that,” she said. “My family… I mean… if they want me back… they—”

“They would have gone to the cops,” Sally said, her voice cracking around the words. “That’s what I thought.”

Holding her face in her hands, Lily looked up and saw her eyes past all hope as Sally fell into Lily’s arms.

“Then my father’s going to find me,” she said. “Take me back. Make me… make me…”

The horror in her voice mingled with shame, and as her body was racked with loud sobs, Brendan remerged from the shadows with tight fists.

“You doing this to her?” he asked. “‘Cause she don’t need—”

“Shut up!” Lily barked as she held Sally and let her cry. This was all wrong. Maybe not Sally being here. Given what her father was, she was bound to end up in one kind of servitude or another. But she had chanced on Ken, and when the man was at full strength, he was good to her. No. No, the glaring error was Lily’s. She had only stumbled upon this scene, and without Michael to assure her that he was right where he wanted her: close. She was nothing more than an afterthought. She was a loose end. One pull, and the whole fabric came undone.

“Sally, don’t cry.”

Easing the sobbing girl to her feet, Lily forced her eyes to hers and stroked her cheek as she patted her hair.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lily leaned closer and pressed her lips to Sally’s ear, whispering quickly. “I’ll cut them off at the pass,” she promised. “Point them in a million wrong directions. And you guys keep moving come dawn.”

Sally stiffened under her hold and pulled back. “I… no,” she said. “I didn’t mean that—”

“But I do.”

“Lily, I—”

“Stay safe,” Lily said. “Try to be happy with Ken. And promise me that you’ll tell Michael that… that what we had was real.”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go.”

Brendan started to lurch closer. She only had one shot at this; one chance to make her desperate plan work.

“And forgive me for this,” she begged.

Slamming her fist into Sally’s gut, Lily watched for all of a second as the girl clutched her middle and doubled over in pain.

“What the fuck?” Brendan bellowed. “You totally crazy or—”

Or something.

Hitting Sally again, wanting to tear her hand from her arm as she brought down the blow, she pushed Sally into Brendan’s arms. He could make one of two moves. Let Sally fall to the ground and rail against her for her rebellion.

Or…

“You okay, Sally?” Brendan asked as he tried to ease her to the sand and prevent any further pain.

Good boy. Right call.

Seizing her opening, Lily ran back into the night. Brendan’s voice was at her back, ordering her to hold up and explain what she was about. Let the force of her fist be the explanation that got her away. Let Michael live on her echoed words when and if Sally was able to give them voice. He probably would scoff and label it just another in her long line of lies. Lily hung onto the fact that she had just known him.

There! She spied her abandoned bike, the key still in the ignition. Taking one last look back, she saw nothing, heard no one.

“It was real, Michael,” she whispered into the air. “And I would have stayed if you wanted me to.”

No sign of him now, and she hopped onto the chopper and sped off for parts unknown. Especially to herself.

As she rode over the desert sands, Lily spied the sun starting to rise out of the corner of her eye. The night was longer than she had known, but still it was ending before she had a chance to do so much as blink. It was tomorrow, and she was without Michael, she had no idea what that meant. Should she have hung back and given him a chance to play the role that Sophia believed he could slip into once he cooled off? Wishful thinking on both of their parts. He wasn’t coming back to her, was never going to give her the benefit of the doubt. Lover or not, she had wounded his pride, and the entire club saw him shamed when Noel dropped the bomb. This was all she could do. Find her family and spin the story in a direction that would protect Sally. At least someone back at camp would remember her fondly when she realized that the blows from Lily’s own hands were only meant to cut the worst off at the pass and keep her secret safe.

Riding hard and fast, Lily felt the wind whipping through her hair and tears streaming down her cheeks. How the hell do I spin this? What are the words?

Turning a corner, her heart lifted some at the realization that she was at least making it back the same way that they came. Noel and his Mad Angels might still be lying in wait, but Lily gritted her teeth and told herself that she could outrun them if push came to shove. Gripping the handle bars tighter, she followed the path of the road and told herself that Sophia had it wrong. The police were on their tail. All she had to do was meet them first.

And then she would put her plan into action.

Lily envisioned herself bringing the bike to a stop and lifting her hands in the air at the first sight of flashing red and blue lights. Cops would swirl around her, guns aimed but low as they tried to believe what they were seeing and look for anyone that might have followed her.

No one will. Not the one I want most.

And then they would ease her body from the bike. Probably wrap her body in a blanket or one of their jackets before pressing her into the back of a patrol car. Lily would smile and say that she was sorry to cause so much trouble. There would be questions. Where had she been? Who had she been with? In their minds, they would think that she was a victim of some unspeakable fate. Maybe at the start. But not after. Not when she remembered the feel of Michael’s arms around her.

And if she could hang onto that feeling before he turned away from her in disgust, she could sell the story.

Don’t understand all the fuss. Can’t a girl have a little fun off the grid without everyone losing it?

That was her line. Dan and her parents knew that she had run off in search of the unknown, and she would tell them that she had done just that and gotten a taste of some of the darker things during the course of her adventure.

Sorry if everyone was all concerned or whatever.

The cops would click their tongues and frustration and whisper about her when she was just a few steps away. They would call her a spoiled princess who had no conception of the manpower needed to track a girl down or what could have happened to her. Maybe the former was true, but Lily knew all too well what had happened. And she wasn’t about to take any of it back. Not even when she found her father again and saw the disgust in her eyes.

Thought I told you to get right and grow up. And you go and do this?

She would keep up the act for Sally’s sake and just shrug her shoulders. What her father didn’t know would never hurt him, would only give him ammunition for the life sentence that she would willingly stepping back into. At least her mother would be happy. And as for Dan….

Trying to remember what it was to be with him, Michael’s face flashed before Lily’s eyes, and she shuddered at the sight.

Make him believe it, Sally. I’ll live on that. If I can’t have him…

Her thoughts congealed and hit the front of her mind as the sound of a distant motor roared and gained power. A quick glance over her shoulder filled her heart with horror, and Lily feared that Noel and his boys were about to run her off the road. Falling into their hands was the last thing she wanted. She pictured the Mad Angels taking her two or three at a time as Ken got his club and further and further away from the threat. Lily told herself that she could handle it. But she knew that her body would ache and her soul would cry out for Michael to rescue her, to claim her again.

But he wasn’t coming after her.

Intensifying her speed, Lily had to smile at the distance passing between her and the bike at her back.

They’re not going to catch me. I can still get away. I…

Lost in her hopeful thoughts, Lily failed to navigate the next curve in the road. Looking over her right shoulder, she saw an abyss waiting to swallow her whole if she failed to ride away from it. She couldn’t fall, not when she was this close to getting away. She had to swerve and hope that the other side of the road would keep her riding into the wind.

Turning the bike under her hands, her tire skidded and lost its grip on the earth, and Lily wailed into the air as she started to lose the bike. Feeling it falling from under her, she lamented the fact that her chances were nothing on foot. But she had to at least live to fight another day. Collapsing in a heap, her head hit a smooth stone, and she was stunned. But even through her haze, she saw the bike moving in slow motion as it teetered at the edge of the cliff. She prayed that it would somehow right itself and give her a chance to climb back on and keep flying away.

Please. Please…

The chopper seemed to answer her silent call for all of a second before it left her line of sight.

“No!” she screamed.

Her ears with the sound of metal hitting stone as the engine groaned in defeat and smoke wafted up into the air. Summoning what little strength she still had, Lily crawled towards the sight of the fall and peered over the edge. Narrowing her eyes, she saw what was left of the bike in nothing but pieces among the jagged rocks. Should she try to make her way down and imagine some kind of magical repair? Lily nearly did just that when she suddenly stopped herself. Going after the bike was a lost cause, and as she struggled to her feet, Lily was relived to find that she still had the use of her legs. Wobbly to be sure, but she could still run. Or at least try to. Her steps were labored as the sound of the strange bike gaining on her filled her heart with terror. But she had to try to keep moving. She couldn’t… she just couldn’t…

Looking towards the sun rising in the sky, Lily didn’t know which way to turn. The world suddenly seemed to spin all around her, and she didn’t know which way to move. Taking a few halting steps, her head pounding with each move, she told herself that it was the right path, that her plan was still perfectly intact as one foot stayed on solid ground.

And the other hit the open air.

Looking down, she saw the wreckage that had been her bike. Even as she tried to draw back, Lily’s body was nearing the place when she had no hope of doing anything but joining the crashed chopper and going out the same way.

Maybe this can still work. It’ll look like an accident. No one will come after a mistake.

Resigning herself to her sudden fate, Lily felt her body moving closer to the open air when a firm arm surrounded her waist.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The hold brought her away from the edge, and she managed to sigh in relief at the realization that this was not the day when she was going to die. Her heels dragged against the asphalt, and she felt her body being lowered to the sand. The relief lasted for all of a second when she remembered who or what might be after her, and her vision was still hazy as a hand touched her face.

“Don’t touch me,” she muttered. “I won’t go with you.”

The fingers fell away, and Lily’s body relaxed against the slate. It had to be Noel, and he had to just be toying with her. Probably wanted to see how far she could crawl before he pounced again. She pictured her hands bound, her body stripped. He would make like Trevor and drag her enslaved body across the sands and lead her into some circle of hell from which she might never…

“Let me go!”

Trying to stand, her legs started to give out from under her, and Lily could either fall or settle into the arms holding her fast. Even as she wanted to live, to run, she still thrashed and kicked until the stranger’s hold was too much for her to fight.

“Stop!” she screamed. “Get your fucking hands—”

“It’s me, Lily!”

Catching her breath in her chest, Lily’s eyes struggled and finally focused on the eyes over the arms keeping her in their grasp.

“Why would you run away from me?”

Seeing Michael clearly for the first time since he’d left her, Lily’s first instinct was to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him tight. He had come for her! In the end, he still wanted…

“Why would you do something that stupid?”

Her head cleared around his words, and Lily pulled away from him. Michael kept her at arm’s length, his fingers till touching her hands even as he seethed before her and kept spewing.

“Smack Sally around and run?” he challenged. “That made you no new friends.”

She could already picture Brendan leading the rallying cry to her to stew in her own juices until she was met some worst fate. Maybe Sophia spoke up for her; maybe she just focused her mind on Ken’s wounds. But something had brought Michael back to her side.

“What?” she asked. “Are you going to sling me over your shoulder and go back all King Kong? Show them that you can put me in my place?”

“Something like that,” Michael said. “Come here.”

His arms pulled her off the ground. She nearly settled against his chest, savoring the musky waves pouring off his neck as pulled her closer. Meeting his eyes, she tried and failed to decipher his cold stare.

“What if I don’t want to?” she said. “What if I…?”

Lily’s voice trailed off, and her head spun again. She couldn’t focus on anything but her own ragged breath as Michael’s hold intensified and he kneeled to the ground.

“Easy.”

He cradled her head with his hand and laid her out on the sand. Grateful for the solid surface against her back, she sighed into the feel of his fingers touching her cheek.

“You’re okay,” he crooned. “No worse for the wear.”

He leaned closer, his lips curled above hers when she turned away with a light smirk.

“What can I say? Guess I got a hard head.”

“I won’t argue that.”

Michael rested his body at her side and dragged her fingers down her cheek.

“Something to be thankful for,” he said. “Maybe not the only thing.”

As her fallen bike continued to smoke from its final resting place, his fingers firmed around her chin, and she forced her stare into his eyes.

“You… Sally said it was real.”

Lily’s lips parted to echo her own words when another dizzy spell overtook her. Needing rest, she settled into his shoulder.

“It was,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“But you did,” he said. “A fiancé?”

Finding her focus and his eyes, Lily caught the light in his stare. It felt as if he was giving her a chance to change her story, his lips ready to kiss her and just get back to where they were. Wanting nothing more than to take that chance and see it through, Lily nearly met his lips when he questioned her again.

“Who is he?” Michael asked. “Can you at least give me a name?”

He was being tender. Probably in light of her fall. But Lily saw through it and bit back her anger as she curled closer to his chest.

“Dan,” she muttered. “Okay?”

She felt his body tense around the sound, but when his hands pressed into her back, and he did not pull away.

“Never saw a ring,” he whispered. “You lose that before the auction?”

“No,” she started. “Because there never was a ring. Never a proper engagement.”

His eyes brightened, and Lily felt sure that she felt his heart lifted as he shot up, his eyes till peering down at her. “So what did he even mean to you?” Michael asked.

With a sigh, Lily leaned forward and savored the support of his hold. “It’s… complicated,” she finally said.

Michael lowered is eyes and sadly nodded his head. “Still sounds serious,” he said. “And it kills me.”

Seeing the pain in his stare, Lily reached for his face and kept his eyes in hers. “I… I left home because I wasn’t sure,” she said. “I wanted to see what else was out there.”

Lily looked at him without blinking as his hands moved down her neck. Holding her there, he spoke softly.

“So now you see,” he said. “I bought you. I tried to make you mine.”

Tried?

“Michael, I wanted all of—”

“But of course you want to get back to what’s really real,” he said. “Because you had a life before all of this. This is just a fantasy or—”

“It’s not. I—”

“Come off it, Lily!”

Pushing away from her, Michael sat up and held his face in his hands. She watched his back tense, his shoulders lift and fall. Trying to touch him, Michael shrugged her off and moved further away from her.

“All this time,” he muttered. “And all you’ve wanted is to get back to another man.”

Lily started to reach for him again when she drew back and punched a small fist into the sand.

“So maybe I didn’t tell you,” she started. “But I was leaving him. I… I wasn’t even sure if I would ever go back.”

“Whatever,” he said as he got to his feet. Watching him go caused her lips to twitch, and she barreled forward, her arms around his legs as she forced him to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked as he tried to block her frantic blows.

“I told you that I wanted to stay with you!” Lily cried. “And you… you just walked away from me.”

Seizing her wrists, he turned her to his back and straddled her suddenly. “Get the hell off—!”

“Thought you said you want me to keep you close,” he spat. “Well, which is it, Lily?”

Her blood boiled as his mouth curled into sneer. Lily’s hands were useless, but she twisted her legs around his and brought the heel of her sneaker to his shin. As soon as he winced, Lily wriggled from his grasp and found her way to her feet.

But she did not run.

“It’s gray,” she said. “Me wanting you when I should want to go back is not one thing or the other.”

Struggling to his feet, Michael brushed his hands on the backs of his jeans and stared at her hard. “Then is it anything?” he said.

Lily’s shoulder slumped as she hung her head, speaking softly into her chest.

“It’s… it’s everything,” she muttered. “And I only left because I’m a jinx. It’ll be better for everyone if you just try to forget me.”

Michael made no move as he appeared to ponder her words carefully. Now he would agree and send her on her way. Maybe he would offer her his bike in place of the one she had wrecked and tell her to keep going and try to steer clear of trouble. Lily started to turn away from him when he quickly pulled her back into his arms and brushed the hair from her eyes.

“Now how the hell am I supposed to do that?” he asked.

Lily’s tongued tied as she tried to reiterate all the reasons that her departure was the right call. But his hold intensified around her body, and he breathed into her eyes as he spoke softly.

“It ain’t happening,” he whispered. “I…” He rested his brow to hers and kissed every inch of her face as he murmured into her skin, his hands, his lips spilling down her sides. “I won’t lie to you,” he said. Lily started to back away at the veiled insult in his tone, but there was no escaping the force of his embrace.

“Sure,” he continued. “Crossed my mind for like a split second when Brendan told me what you did to Sally.”

“Is she okay?” Lily asked sadly.

“Girl’s a lot tougher than she looks,” Michael said. “Gave me your message and more.”

“What do you mean?”

“She said that I shouldn’t let you go without a fight. So I’m here, okay?”

His speech stopped and started right there even as Lily waited for him to say, to do something else. “And that’s it?” she asked. “You don’t have anything else to say?”

Pulling her closer, Michael brought his lips close to hers. She felt as if she would swoon at the feel of the warm stream escaping from his mouth.

“I’d rather show you.”

Bringing his kiss to her lips, Lily struggled for all of a second and tried to push him away. His arms were too hard, his hold too strong, and Lily started to melt into him when he left her lips and searched her face.

“How’s that?” he asked. “Did you buy it?”

She was on the verge of nodding when she suddenly held still as stone and peered into his eyes.

“Maybe,” she said. “But you could show me more.”

Kissing her again, Michael’s arms surrounded her shoulders, and he pushed her into a slab of hard rock shining under the first light of dawn. Blinking past the sun, she found his face again and dared to stroke his cheek. “That all you got?” Lily asked.

When he failed to make another move, Lily started to fume. Wriggling against him, Michael tried to claim her mouth again as she flattened her palm against his cheek and sent him spinning. As she watched him fall, Lily felt a tear at her heart, and she started towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I… oh!”

Grabbing her ankle, Michael started to wrestle her to the ground. As her body began to crash to earth, Lily curled her fingers into fists and started beating against his chest. Michael easily absorbed her blows, and she screamed and kicked as he caught her arms over her head and pressed her body in place.

“Why does it always have to be like this?” she whimpered as she tried and failed to kick him again, his knee against her leg as he peered into her eyes.

“Like you don’t love it,” he challenged.

“I—”

“And stop lying to me already.”

Lily licked her lips and felt his face burning over his. She turned her head away, and he made no move to stop her as she spoke slowly.

“I… there was someone else,” she said. “But he wasn’t you. No one’s ever been you.”

Daring to look at him again, she held her breath at the sight of his face a mask of slate.

“And what exactly am I?” he asked.

“I already told you,” Lily said. “Everything.”

Michael started to kiss her again when he pulled back and laughed into the rising sun.

“But still you left,” he muttered. “No goodbye or—”

“Sally got you my message. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

She squealed as he pressed her deeper into the ground and fell against her. The rhythm of his grinding hips hiked her skirts up and over her thighs. Lily felt his cock growing harder through his denim as he fell into her body, his lips close to hers before he finally spoke again.

“Moan for me.”

Releasing one of her wrists, Michael lowered his fly in one swift motion and pushed his cock to her mound. His tip teased her and circled her soft flesh, and she arched her body to feel more of him when he lifted up and away from her.

“Do it.” he ordered. “Now.”

Lily gritted her teeth, desperate to defy him even as her body burned when his lips fell to hers. His kiss was as soft as his cock was hard, and he started to slip inside her when he pulled back and simply looked down at her.

“Now, Lily. Let me hear it.”

Forgetting the nearness of his cock, she peered into his eyes, her breath heaving in her chest. “Is that all you need?”

“Why do you have to fight me on everything?”

“Because you love it,” she challenged. “Isn’t that really why you came after me?”

His eyes flashed, and his fingers pressed harder into her wrists. She felt as if he could break through her skin and crush her bones if he wanted to. But Lily knew that she couldn’t; a part of her didn’t want to. And she was ready to bear up under his blows when Michael relinquished some of his hold.

“Sure,” he whispered as he curled his touch under her finger. “I love this. And you.”

Starting under the force of his confession, Lily stared at him disbelief.

“You said it first,” she said.

“What’s that? Did I beat you to the punch or something?”

Slipping inside her again, he fell closer to her body and wrapped his arm around her waist as he dragged her body, her cunt nearer to his cock, expanding him around him as he filled her quickly. Now she moaned as he started to pulse inside her. Lily’s hands were at his chest, moving under his sweat-soaked shirt. Feeling his pecs, Lily sighed at the feel of his heart pounding, his skin shivering as she pressed her nails into his flesh and stretched up to kiss him.

“Maybe,” she whispered. “I—”

“Then say it.” He pushed her back to the ground. Lily expected him to leave her until she gave him the words that he wanted most. But Michael stayed inside her and stroked her hair as he sighed into her neck.

“Say it. If I’m going to lose you anyway…”

Seizing the chance, Lily moved closer to him and took her face in his hands. His cock still throbbed within her, but Lily shook the sensation away and stared into his eyes. “Of course I love you,” she whispered. “You don’t have to ask that.”

He kissed her again and only left her lips to bring his mouth to her ear. “I knew,” he said. “I knew from the first night. But I’ve been waiting.”

Looking into his eyes again, Lily grazed her fingers against his cheek and kissed him softly. “Sorry to keep you in suspense,” she whispered. “I’ve known for a long time, too.”

“Then why the hell are we still talking?”

Lily fell silent and offered no resistance as he pushed her back to the ground, his cock driving deeper as he moved around her. He made no attempt to capture her wrists again. Grateful for the chance to just touch his arms and move her fingers towards his hips as he expanded inside her, Lily’s fingers curled around his, and he gripped her hands as his cock swelled. When she moaned again, he managed to smile into her eyes, and his lips fell to her hers.

“Jesus fuck, Lily…”

He held back as her body shivered underneath him, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him back to her eyes.

“Please,” she begged. “No one is you. Make me feel good again, feel loved.”

His face seemed sad, but when she turned around his cock, the sorrow left his eyes. Michael fell against her, his hands at her bare breasts as he drove deeper and set her pussy on fire.

“I want you,” he moaned. “I couldn’t let you go without—”

“Stop talking,” Lily whispered as she grabbed his face and kissed him quickly. “I love it. I love you.”

“Lily…”

Pushing up, his cock seared her soft folds, and Lily gasped as he penetrated and exploded inside her. She let his lust coat her insides as she steadied her shaking form with his palms. His head fell between her breasts, and she curled her body to meet his mouth. Michael kissed her nipples and bit her mounds as her head spun in delight. Leaving her breasts, his tongue moved down her skin. The tip of his kiss swirled around her naval, and she savored the trembles crossing her flesh when he lifted his head to her shoulders and rested against her.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “That’s something that I can live on.”

She tried to hold him again when he sadly pulled his cock out. His hands stayed on her face as he peered down at her.

“Is that all you have to say?” she asked, her cunt still aching at the loss of him, only wanting him back.

“Haven’t cared this much about someone in a long time,” he admitted. “Guess I’m kind of rusty.”

Thinking of all that he had lost, Lily took him into her arms and held him close as she kissed his hair and stroked his cheeks.

“You did just fine,” she said. “And it’s more than I can live on.”

He started to speak but fell back with a sad sigh even as he rested his head to her breasts and kissed her there.

“When you’re gone, I’ll never forget.”

Could she go now? Did she really have to? As he lifted her to her feet and lowered her blouse, Michael just held her and sighed into her ear.

“But maybe I don’t I have to.”

Lily turned her head to his eyes and searched his face for an explanation. He wasn’t… he couldn’t really…

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Just saying,” he started. “You got no bike. And maybe this is the way to make things right.”

Holding her hand tighter, he started to drag her back to his bike. He nearly had her off the ground when she fought against him again and twisted her head over her neck.

“No!” she screamed. “You can’t be a part of this! It’s too dangerous!”

As he had her body against his bike, Michael pushed his fingers into her arms and steadied his face under her gaze.

“Wasn’t a thing when you were willing to give everything up for me,” he said. “Why can’t I return the favor?”

She was tempted; she wanted him to come with him, to see there through the storm that promised to be the reunion with her parents and Dan. But as she started to take his hand, as she felt his fingers curling around her wrist, Lily pulled back and hid her face in her hands.

“Lily, I want to,” he said. “Trust me.”

He tried to hold her again, and Lily started to slip into his arms as he pushed his fingers into his arms and drew her closer.

“I can stand by your side through this,” he swore.

The sound of his voice melted her heart, and she curled into his chest as he pulled her closer and kissed her hair. “I… I was going to spin it like a lost weekend,” she murmured.

“A little more than a weekend, Lily,” Michael teased.

“I know,” she said. “So much more.”

He kissed her again, and Lily sighed at the feel of his tongue swirling around hers. Darting around and across her flesh, Michael spun away from her mouth and stared into her eyes.

“Everything,” he said. “Maybe you can walk away from it. But I can’t.”

Lily welcomed the return of his kiss, and as her arms swirled around his back, she tried to tell herself that he could follow, that she could bring him home and link her life to his. But she pushed back and shook her head.

“It’ll only mean more trouble,” she said sadly. “Just let me take my medicine.”

Michael held her hand tight as he kept her where she stood. “Only with me,” he said. “How can I not come with you now?”

Glancing over the side of the road, the smoke finally starting to fade, Lily lamented the fact that she had no wheels to put her plan into action. But she still had her legs.

“I can make it on my own,” she said. “Please, Michael.”

He let her go, and she started to run. If the Mad Angels found her now, she would have no way of speeding past them. But she could always duck for cover and hide. It felt like her only choice, and her feet moved faster under her body when the sound of his motor revving up to a place that promised full speed caused her to turn her head over her shoulder. Michael was advancing on her, and she kept her eyes on him as she pressed her palms to the air and brought him to a stop.

“Michael,” she cautioned. “Go back.”

Kicking away from his bike, he caught Lily before she could run and pulled her close to his chest. “I can’t leave you now,” he said as she struggled against him.

“It won’t work if you come!” she challenged. “I need to keep you a secret. I—”

“Don’t be ashamed of me, Lily.”

“I’m not!” she cried.

Falling into his arms, Lily let him hold her and sighed into his chest. Could they just stay like this and live on this patch of earth and never worry about whatever might still lurk in the shadows? Lifting her face to his, she felt Michael’s hands moving down her face, and he brought his lips close to hers.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Do you really want to go this alone?”

Even as Lily’s lips curled into her smile, tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head over her chest. “No,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you hurt. I want you safe.”

“Will you feel safe if I leave you now?” he challenged.

Lily choked back a sob and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “No,” she said. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Sounds like a fucking ringing endorsement,” Michael said. “Get up here.”

Michael lifted her into his arms and pressed her body to his bike. Sitting behind her, he reached past her for the handlebars and kissed her tense neck.

“Michael, I—”

“Spin the story however you have to,” he said. “I’ll play along. And I’ll be with you for the ride.”

Lily tried to pull away from him when he kept her close, his lips at her ear as he whispered softly. “I’ve lost you too many times to count,” he said. “Not again. Let me come with you.”

Struck by the slight question in his voice, Lily felt as if she couldn’t let him go. Not when he was so close and wanting to keep closer. Would this really work? Could she see her mother again and still feel his hand in hers?

“Michael…”

He kept quiet as he stroked her face and brought his lips to hers. Lingering in his tender kiss, she parted from him wanting more, but his eyes didn’t move from hers, his hold around her fingers intensified.

“You… you really want to try to do this with me?” she asked.

“I’m not scared, Lily. You don’t have to be either.”

She rested her head against his shoulder and stayed silent as he raced deeper into the morning, the wind sweeping over them as he drove faster. Every few seconds, Lily’s eyes darted across the sands, her body shuddering at the thought that Noel and his boys could be on them at any second. No sight of them, and Michael held her tighter as he sped away from the desert and neared a sleepy hamlet just starting to wake from its slumber. After so much time hidden in among the sands, she should take some comfort at a return to normalcy, but his was no longer the life that she knew, a life that she barely remembered. As they neared a hole in the wall that served as the town’s police, Lily grabbed his arms and shook her head against his chest.

“You should let me off here,” she said. “Go back and get the others away.”

“Not a chance.”

Kissing her quickly, Michael brought his bike to a stop and eased her feet to the ground. Trying to steady her stance, Michael pushed her closer and brushed the strands of hair from her face.

“I’m coming in with you,” he said. “No way am I thinking about running now.”

She smiled and into his chest and let him caress her neck. “You gonna stay where I can keep an eye on you?” she asked.

“That’s the idea,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Pulling the door open, Lily and Michael stepped into a wooden walled room littered with billboards covered in sketches and photos of the most wanted and the missing. Lily saw her own image, her graduation photo, Dan at her side. Turning away from the image, she gripped Michael’s arm tighter and approached the main desk.

The woman barely glanced up from her head of frizzy blonde locks and her word jumble. “What can I do for you?”

Looking to Michael for reassurance, Lily saw him give her a quick nod and kissed her temple.

“I’m here,” he promised. “You can do it.”

Steeling her body for the struggle ahead, Lily pressed her palms back to the desk. Slapping the game away from the woman’s hands, she gave her no choice but to look into her eyes and took a deep breath.

“My name is Lily Nielsen,” she started. “And I… think that someone’s looking for me.”

The woman dropped her pencil as Michael stepped closer to her side. As he held her, the blonde pushed a button and called for reinforcements.

“Sheriff Nick? Officer Bates? There’s someone here that I think you’ll want to see.”

Sitting in an interrogation room with mirrors for windows, Lily held Michael’s hand tighter and gazed into his eyes.

“I’m scared,” she said. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

“It’s going to be alright,” he promised her. “And I’m right here.”

“You don’t wish you had stayed back with the others?”

Michael stayed quiet, and Lily started to shift in her seat when he kissed her quickly and stroked her cheek.

“Not a chance,” he said. “No place else I’d rather be.”

Lily hesitated before believing him, and Michael took her into his arms and whispered into her ear.

“I got you,” he promised. “And we’ll make it work.”

Gazing into his eyes, Lily tried to tell herself hat his words were true, and she sat with his hand in hers as the door pushed open a mismatched pair entered the room.

“Well, well, well. What have we got here?”

The younger of the pair with dark skin and a lighter uniform pounded his fist to the table before sitting opposite them and pressing his fingers together. Even as Lily stayed closer to Michael, she feared the man slapping papers on the table. At least the older man, wearing a simple suit, gave her a kind smile and as he stepped into the shadows. If she was going to trust one of them, then he would be the one. But it was the other man’s show, and Lily had no choice but to meet his dark eyes as he had laid out the entire timeline of her absence from so-called civilization under a series of cold questions.

“Lily Nielsen,” he started. “Went missing two months ago. No contact with family or friends.”

“We know the story, Nick,” the older guy said as he tapped his shoulder. Nick shrugged him off and glared at Michael as he continued to speak.

“And now here you are. Sort of like a miracle.”

Lily blushed and started to give her version of events when Nick stretched to his full length and glared at Michael.

“And who the hell are you?” Nick challenged.

Michael looked to Lily, and she thanked him with a quick squeeze of his hand.

This is still my show. And I can make it work.

“My… my friend,” Lily said as she pulled Michael closer and peered into Nick’s eyes. “He helped me get back. And I—”

“If I buy that, then I’ve seen it all.”

Nick pushed his papers aside and nearly flew across the table as he leered into Michael’s eyes. “What’s your deal?” he challenged. “Keep her away from the people that only want her back and bring her back to the land of the living when you can get some green for your crime?”

Lily started to shake her head when Michael let go of her hand and stretched to his feet.

“I’m here for her.” he spat. “And I never—”

“Aren’t you Michael Roberson?” Nick flipped one page over before he spoke and reached across the table for Michael’s collar before Lily knew what was happening.

“Leave him alone!” Lily screamed.

She was nearly on her feet when Michael pushed her back to her chair. Wincing in the wake of his action, she tried to stand again when he shot her a cold glare and shook his head.

“I saw that,” Nick spat. “Want to keep her from telling us the whole story?”

Looking to the older man, Nick’s eyes flashed and his partner or whatever held back as Nick grabbed Michael by his neck and started to push his body to the ground. Lily gasped and brought her hands to her mouth as Michael collapsed at her feet. Their eyes locked for all of a second, and Michael tried to smile when Nick crushed his fist to his chest and drove the breath from his lungs.

“Stop it! Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” Lily pleaded as she tried to pull Nick away. If she could just talk to him, make him understand what had happened, she could tell her story and get Michael’s hand back in hers.

“Miss,” Nick started, “I see this kind of thing all the time. Prick took you and your car. Sold the latter, and god knows what he did to you.”

Frantically shaking her head from side to side, she spoke quickly as she continued trying to touch Michael, longing to wipe away the tension expanding about his back as he remained doubled over in agony.

“It wasn’t like that!” Lily insisted.

“And now he hears that there’s a reward for your safe return,” Nick continued. “So he wants a piece of that action.”

Nick gripped Michael by the scruff of his neck, and the cop forced the biker’s contorted face to his eyes.

“How’d you pull it off?” Nick demanded as she slapped Michael’s cheek and pressed the heel of his shoe into Michael’s foot. “Tell her to play nice or you’d sic some of your scum on her family? The people that really care about her?”

A thin stream of blood left Michael’s lips, and he licked it away with a smirk and a groan as Nick pushed him into the corner. Standing up straighter, Michael turned his gaze to Lily and smiled weakly as his breath heaved in his chest.

“Think I don’t?” Michael managed, his words for the cop even as his eyes stayed on Lily trembling just a few feet away from him. Again Lily tried to move forward, her only thought to place her body between him and Nick.

He won’t hit me. He’ll have to listen—

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Nick said as he grabbed Michael again and shoved him to his knees, striking him again.

Lily gasped when Michael summoned the strength to fight back. Winding his arms around Nick’s legs, the cop lost his footing and nearly stumbled backwards into the table when Bates whipped out a pair of handcuffs. In one smooth, swift move, he pushed Michael back to the wall.

“No! Lily protested as Nick recovered and she tried to pry Bates away from Michael’s side. Despite his apparent age, she was no match for Bates. Losing the battle before it even started, Lily turned her head to the sight and the sound of other uniforms entering the room.

“Let’s put this prick on ice.” Nick ordered as Bates pushed Michael’s crumpled form into the arms of the other officers. Lily screamed as Michael was led away, but Bates’s hands on her shoulder kept her feet locked on the place where she stood even as her arms flailed wildly.

“Dumb move, Roberson,” Nick spat. “But who knows? Maybe you’ll talk if we promise to go easy on you.”

Again he drove his fist into Michael’s back, and Lily felt as if her heart tore in the two as he winced and moaned.

“But not too easy,” Nick threatened. “About time someone put you assholes in their place. Or at least get a mole.”

As soon as Michael was gone and the door slammed shut, Lily felt Bates push her into one of the abandoned chairs. The older man fell to his knees and took her hand even as she continued to struggle.

“Calm down, little girl,” he said in a soothing tone.

“No.” Lily protested. “You guys have it all wrong!”

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Easy now. I know how horrible it must have been for you. Being taken by a man like—”

“Will someone just listen to me?” Lily cried as she threw her head back and pressed her palms to her flushed cheeks. “He didn’t take me. Not at first, I—”

Slapping her hand over her mouth, Lily fell silent in fear. She had said too much, and without wanting to, these men who were sworn to serve and protect could easily spin her words, twist them into a series of sharp nails that would close Michael’s coffin.

“Sounds like a story,” Bates said as he pulled one of the other chairs to her side and sat slowly. His mouth curled into a soft smile, his wrinkles seeming to expand across his leathery face as he patted her knee gently.

“Okay, Miss Nielsen,” he started. “Just you and me right now. Let’s say you give me your version of events.”

“And… and then you’ll let Michael go?” she asked, her heart fluttering at the prospect that he would be free and that she would be able to hold him again.

“Can’t promise you anything,” Bates admitted. “To hear Nick tell it, Michael’s been known to stir up some shit in his time. Rides with a rough crew.”

Rough? No. That was the wrong word. Fierce was better, loyal to their own code above all else. Nick could beat Michael until he was bloody, and she knew that Michael would never give him a name let alone a location where his boys could be found and captured like animals in need of cages.

And Lily wouldn’t play that game either.

“I… I don’t know anything about that,” Lily lied. “He never hurt me. You don’t believe me?”

Bates’s tongued curled around the inside of is cheek, and she sat on the edge of her seat, her heart in her throat as she hoped, prayed, that he would accept her version of events.

“I’d like to Miss Nielsen,” he said. “But you got to admit, there’s a lot of gaps to fill in.”

“I know,” Lily muttered under her breath.

“Like if it’s all so innocent, why wouldn’t you just call your family and let them know where you were.”

She was on the verge of spinning the story of her wanderlust just desperate for adventure. Sure it was selfish and made her look like a monster. Lily would take the brand if it just meant that—

“Do you have any idea what this did to them?”

Lily started to speak again when Bates pulled his phone from his pocket. Swiping the screen to life, he brought up a video feed and forced the moving images to Lily’s eyes. There, in the home of her childhood, she saw her parents sitting side by side. Craig Nielsen seethed as Corinne kept her eyes on her feet. The sight of her mother’s tear-stained face tugged at Lily’s soul. And yet she thought she saw a slight smile on her lips as Dan, sitting tall and stony-faced at her mother’s other side, pled into an unseen camera.

Lily, if you can hear this, if you can hear me, we just want to know where you are. And if… if someone has you, then… then just try to—

If someone had my daughter, I will hunt them down and show no mercy.

In the video, Corinne chided her husband to calm down and finally turned her eyes upward.

I just need to know that you’re okay, honey. Please.

As Bates ended pushed stop and pressed the phone back into his pocket, Lily’s eyes burned with tears, and she held her face in her hands as her shoulders quaked. She couldn’t go through with it. Not according to her original ill-advised plan. Because if she really was just off for some fun, if she had the chance or the choice, she would have called her mother, and Corinne Nielsen would have understood. She said as much before Lily took off in the first place.

“So?” Bates asked as he took her hand again. “How did it really go down?”

Treading carefully, Lily told him the truth of her kidnapping and the horror that was the night of the auction.

“And Roberson bought you to play around with, right?”

Giving into the memory of Michael’s touch for all of a second, her mind struggled with how to make it sound anything but dirty and brutal, searching for a story that this man might believe so that she could win his Michael his freedom.

And then her mind turned to Sally.

“No,” Lily stated firmly. “He… protected me. And I’m going to stay grateful to him for that.”

“Protected you?” Bates asked as he arched his eyebrow and crossed his arms over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Lily continued. “He’s never made me do anything that I didn’t want to do.”

Which was entirely true. Maybe she hadn’t known what her body longed for most before she knew what it was to have his hands on her, but it was real and more than she had had with any other man.

“Fine,” Bates said. “Let’s say I can buy that. Even though his… presence at such a scene is… questionable.”

Holding his gaze, Lily held her breath and waited for him to continue.

“Why no contact allowed, Miss Nielsen? What’s that all—?”

Bates’s voice came to a halt at the sound of frantic, muffled voices from the other side of the room. Pulling away from her side, Bates moved to open the door when it pushed open via no effort of his own.

“Lily?” A familiar voice trembled. “Is it really you?”

Corinne Nielsen stood in the doorway with a shaky smile on her face and trembling hands. The interrogation room seemed to melt away as Lily stood to meet her, walking on wobbly legs as she searched her mother’s face. All the anguish from the video was replaced by a look of infinite joy that expanded into the brightest of smiles as soon as she touched her daughter’s hair and pulled Lily into her arms.

“Oh God,” Corinne moaned as she clasped her close wept into her shoulder. Returning the embrace, Lily felt a wave of relief wash over her and met her mother’s face, her own eyes brimming with tears as she tried to speak.

“Mom, I… I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I never wanted you to be scared. I—”

“Lily?”

Glancing over Corinne’s shoulder, Lily saw her father and Dan standing side by side. Both men seemed to regard her as if she was an unknown entity. Dan made the first move and started to step forward to touch her when Craig Nielsen held him back and studied his daughter carefully.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You… you haven’t been… spoiled in any way. Have you?”

Lily’s eyes expanded into a shocked stare. How could any man… how could her father of all people even ask such a question?

“Oh for god’s sake, Craig!” Corinne sighed as she kept Lily in her arms. “What is the matter with you?”

“I’m just—”

Before her father finished a thought that Lily already knew she had no desire to hear, Craig glared at Bates.

“A little privacy here,” Carted demanded. “We need to talk to our daughter.”

“Well, sir, she’s actually just been telling me that—”

“And if you don’t mind, I want to hear her tell it to us. So how about you just get back to dealing with the trash that did this to her.”

Bates started to slink away when Lily left her mother’s arms and dared to face her father.

“Is it Michael?” she asked. “What’s happening to him? Do you know something?”

Craig Nielsen gasped in amazement at the sound of his daughter’s words, and Dan took a step forward as Corinne kept Lily close to her side.

“Fine,” Bates said. “But there are still questions that Miss Nielsen need to answer.”

He was nearly out the door when Lily couldn’t resist the urge to call after him.

“Please! He didn’t do anything. It was good luck for me that he was there. Please?”

Hanging his head, Bates managed a soft nod as he stepped out of the room and gently closed the door. For a second, Lily felt her heart starting to calm. Bates would help her, would help Michael. She sank back to the chair in relief, her mother’s arm still around her shoulders as Craig barreled forward and screamed into her flushed face.

“Good luck?” her father challenged. “Was it good luck that your mother cried herself to sleep night after night just hoping that you were still alive?”

“Hush, Craig.” Corinne turned her daughter’s face to hers and patted her cheek. “How could I not miss you?” Corinne whispered. “But I know my girl. You keep your wits about you and—”

“Stop fucking coddling her!” Craig pulled his daughter from his wife’s gentle hold, Lily instantly felt her mother’s kind touch replaced by cold, hard hands. She whimpered as he pressed his fingers into arms and stared her down. As Corinne turned her head in frustration, Lily looked to Dan.

“Are you going to do something about this?” Lily asked.

“About what?” Dan asked in a flat voice. “Seems to me that you should answer your father’s question.”

“Excuse me?” Lily asked. “What the hell is that supposed to —?”

“Were you taken?” Craig demanded. “Was it like that…what Nick says?”

“And what does he say?” Lily asked.

“That you were a prisoner against you will and he’s just looking for a payday?”

Hoping that Bates would move fast and spin her story in Michael’s favor, Lily shook her head and stayed in her father’s eyes.

“That’s not how it happened,” Lily said. “Michael saved me from a bad man.” She lifted her gaze to Dan and cocked her head to the side. “He’s been very good to me ever since.”

Craig pushed away from his daughter in disgust and grabbed his wife’s arm. “I told you,” Craig hissed. “Just trying to embarrass us.”

“Craig, don’t—”

“She’s nothing but a cat in heat! Sometimes I wonder if she’s even mine.”

Lily started to challenge her father when Corinne lifted her hand and smacked Craig’s face hard. He drew back with a wince and stared at his wife in shock.

“I’m not the one that had a side piece,” Corinne spat.

“Excuse me?”

“Not here! Not now!”

Corinne fell back to her daughter’s side and held Lily close.

“Somehow I knew… I just knew that you were okay,” Corinne whispered. “But why didn’t you call, honey? I—”

“I’d like an answer to that, too.”

Dan gritted his teeth as he spoke, and Lily regarded him carefully as Craig stepped forward and literally had his back. Maybe it was a trick of the light in the room, but Lily felt as if Dan was her father, an earlier version of the man who only wanted to keep her line and make sure that she said and did all the right things. His plea for the camera was not about her safety. He was just, he was still furious that he’d taken off without his sacred permission.

“Just off doing my hobo thing,” Lily said. “And you know what? I found a man who’s better than you in every way. Guess I got a little too caught up in that to even give you a second thought. Or a third.”

Dan grimaced and looked as if would strike her when Corinne stepped between them, her eyes wide as she stared her daughter down. Corinne started to speak again, when Lily barely shook her head.

I’m sorry, Mom. But please play along. Please…

Corinne lifted her eyebrows, and Lily felt certain that she was catching her drift. Taking Lily’s hand again, she looked to the men and fixed a smile to her face.

“Guess girls just want to have fun,” she said. “And it all turned out alright in the end. So there’s no reason to—”

“Like hell there isn’t!”

Dan charged forward and pushed Lily’s body into the wall. Corinne cried out and begged to him stop as her husband held her back.

“Tell me you’re lying!” Dan demanded. “Tell me that he’s making you—”

“He made me do all kinds of things.” Lily stared back into his eyes, defiant. “And I loved every minute of it.”

For a second, her heart trembled as Dan’s face started to fall. This was wrong. Maybe she didn’t want him anymore; maybe she had never wanted him at all. Lily cringed at the thought that she had nearly fallen into the clichéd trap of settling for a man too close to her father. But Michael had saved her from that fate. Even as she feared for Michael’s safety, the thought of his hands on her body made her smile, and she started to relax into the memory when Dan’s spit hit her eye and he pushed away from away from her.

“You fucking whore,” he hissed. “You goddamn slut, I should—”

“You should take a step back, sir.” Bates was back in the room, and he took command quickly as he looked into Lily’s eyes.

“Is Michael okay?”

Dan grunted as Craig took his arm. Both men were nearly on her again when Corinne suddenly took charge and waved them off.

“She’s been more than clear,” Corinne said.

“Are you really this dumb?” Craig asked. “She’s brainwashed or—”

“No, dad. My head’s quite clear.” Turning away from them, Lily stared at Bates.

“Michael brought me here because I asked him to,” Lily started. “The man did nothing wrong. And I will not be pressing charges.”

“Of course you won’t,” Craig said. “No daughter of—”

“But she is mine,” Corinne said as she took her little girl’s hand. Lily felt safer and surer in her mother’s hold, and she ignored the whispers at her back.

“So will you let him go now?” she asked.

“Nick won’t like it,” Bates said with a wink. “But there’s no crime here. Not tonight.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. All of you.”

“I know,” Bates said. “And I believe you.”

Smiling at her daughter, Corinne appeared to be on the cop’s wavelength.

“So… so can I see him?” Lily asked, desperate for the desired answer.

“Don’t see why not,” Bates said. “He’s free to go.”

Lily’s soul lifted at the sound of those words, and she tugged on her mother’s arm as she moved to follow the cop.

“I want you to meet him,” Lily whispered. “He… he took care of me.”

Corinne hesitated for all of second before she sighed and held her hand tighter.

“Anything you need, Lily.”

She was nearly out of the room when she looked back to Dan for what would be the last time. Sure he smiled brightly at first and told her that he would see to her every need. But the man—the boy—came up short when it came to what she wanted most. Lily pictured him years down the line with a vapid little wife on his arm who never thought of dared to ask for what she needed most. And while a part of Lily pitied that phantom of a person, she held her ground and granted Dan the chance to speak his final peace.

“Guess I never really knew what kind of a whore you were.” He spat.

“No. No you didn’t.”

Leaving the room, Lily kept her mother close as they moved back to the main room. Nick grimaced as the frizzy blonde poured him a cup of coffee.

“Don’t mind him,” Bates said as he led them out into the sunlight.

“Wait!” Lily cried. “Where’s Michael?”

“Miss Nielsen—”

“I won’t leave him! I—”

“Lily, I’m right here.”

Standing beside his bike, Lily instantly took note of the fresh bruises on his face and fell into his arms.

“Are you okay?” she begged. “Did they—?”

“You did good,” he whispered into her neck. “I’m free and clear. And the Mad Angels can’t use any reward against us.”

Grateful for that, Lily held him closer as Bates patted Corinne’s back.

“So glad it all worked out for you,” he said. “Got a daughter myself. I know what it is to worry.”

Corinne shook the cop’s hand as he took his leave. Lily took a deep breath and dragged Michael to her mother’s side.

“Mom? This is… this is Michael Roberson. He saved me. And he brought me back to you.”

Biting down on her lip, Lily hoped for her mother to keep understanding.

“You had my daughter?” Corinne asked.

“Mom, I told you. It wasn’t like he—”

“I’m asking him.”

Michael held her mother’s gaze as raised his hand into the air.

“No,” Lily whispered. “What do you think you’re—?”

“Your daughter was taken, Mrs. Nielsen. But not by me. And you have my word that I’ve never hurt her.”

Lily started to nod when Michael folded her close, and she couldn’t resist the lure of his chest. Resting in his arms, she glanced at her mother and watched her blank face as she reached into her purse.

“Then I guess I should be giving this to you, Mr. Roberson.”

She pressed a thick wad of bills into Michael’s hand, and he studied the stack in shock as Corinne took her daughter’s face in her hands.

“Your man, your choice. When are you coming home?”

Michael still seemed stunned by the sight of the bills. Lily pulled on his arm, and he shot back to attention as Corinne repeated her question.

“Whenever she wants,” Michael said. “I go with her.”

Corinne started making plans, saying that they’d have to rent a car since there was no chance that Craig would drive her back.

“And maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

Laying out a life of home-cooked meals and warm beds, Lily thought of wanting to share that and more with Michael. But even as her mother had trusted her, a part of her still worried when she failed to make contact. The Diesel Devils were Michael’s family. She couldn’t just let him…

“Mom, there’s something that we have to do first.”

“And she’s back.”

Lily let Michael lift her from the back of his bike as the Diesel Devils seemed ready to lay fresh tracks. Brendan shot her a sharp sneer as he turned his back, but Sophia moved forward in friendship.

“So what’s the deal?” she asked Michael. “Thought you said that you would run the other way as long as you could follow her.”

Michael blushed, and Lily held his hand, feeling stronger in the space of his touch as she peered into Sophia’s eyes.

“I followed him,” Lily said. “You really think I would let him go without saying goodbye?”

Sophia tilted her head and her lips slowly curled into a smile as she pinched Michael’s cheek. “Glad for that, boy. Come with me.”

Walking past the others, Sophia led them to Ken and Sally crouching behind a slab of stone. The girl started as soon as she saw them, and Lily left Michael’s hold to approach her.

“I’m sorry, Sally,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—”

“It didn’t really hurt,” Sally said. “Nothing compared to having to keep running.”

Ken groaned as Lily snapped her fingers quickly in Michael’s face. He pulled Corinne’s wad of bills from his pocket.

“Jesus fuck!” Sophia cried. “What the hell have you two been up to?”

Lily took the money and assured Sally that this was the reward. “And it’s ours now,” she promised. “So no more cops. Your father won’t have a way to track you.”

As Sally fingered the money, she seemed to search Lily’s face in the hope that her words were true. When Michael nodded and split the stack in two, Sally fell into her arms. Lily held her close as Michael conferred.

“Take half,” Michael said. “Use it to make a fresh start.”

When Ken hesitated, Michael shook his head and clasped his shoulders.

“I’m going with Lily, and you need to keep everything else up and running. Think of it as a parting gift.”

Ken started to protest when Sophia nudged his ribs. “Don’t you know what to do with a gift horse?” she asked. “Come on now.”

Silently agreeing to Michael’s terms, Ken pocketed the bills and slapped Michael’s back. “And you’re really going to be okay?”

Smiling down at Lily, Michael winked as he spoke. “Don’t see how I—”

“What the fuck?”

Brendan’s voice pierced the air as the group shot up straighter and regarded one another with wary stares. Leading the charge, Ken drew his gun as Michael had his back.

“What’s happening?” Lily asked.

“Damned if I know,” Sophia answered.

Stepping slowly, Sally still under her arm, Lily’s eyes went wide at the sight of the Mad Angels back in full force. But for the first time, they didn’t scare her. All they wanted was the reward, and now it was off the table.

“You’re too late!” Lily said. “We’re going. We—”

Lily’s speech stopped short at the sight of a familiar frame poking into view.

“Bates?”

What was he here? He was on her side. Maybe the man just needed more proof to be sure of her side of the story. But then why had Noel and—

“There she is.”

Bates pointed past Lily and fixed his stared on Sally.

“Heard that you were up for sale,” Bates said. “Can’t say I liked the thought of it, little girl.”

Sally started to scream as she cowered into his shoulder. Why was the cop saying…?

Have a daughter myself. I know what it is to worry.

“Oh no…”

Bates stepped closer, and Ken moved to stop him when Noel cocked his trigger and aimed at Sally in Lily’s arms.

“No!” Sally screamed. “No! I won’t go back! Not with you!”

Folding Sally into her arms, Lily fell to the sand and covered Sally with her body. Trying to calm Sally with her whisper, she looked up the see Bates staring Michael down as he smirked.

“Thanks so much,” he said. “Been looking for my little girl. Who would’ve thought that you’d be my ticket to the truth?”

Michael moved to strike him when Noel fired a shot into the air. The Diesel Devils fell silent as Noel turned his gun back on Sally, and no one made a move as Bates stepped closer.

“So this is where you end up,” he started. “Some biker’s whore. Sweetheart…”

Sally cringed as Bates leaned closer and tried to touch her. Knowing enough, knowing too much, Lily pushed Sally behind her back and glared at Bates.

“I thought I could trust you,” she hissed.

“You can,” he said. “You and this…”

Bates smirked at Michael before turning his eyes back to Lily.

“You can play the old lady for as long as you want,” he continued. “Shit. Even your mom seems down with that. Guess it’s just her parenting style.”

He smirked at Sally and touched his fingers to her trembling chin. “But I keep my little girl close,” he said. “You’re going to come back and be a good. And this time, I’m never letting you out of my sight.”

Sally flinched, and Lily longed to tear his heart out as Ken tried to charge forward.

“I wouldn’t,” Noel cautioned. “I really wouldn’t.”

His gun was still poised to take Sally down where she lay, and Lily turned her eyes to Michael. She saw him seething through his skin, but he held back as Bates stretched to his feet and suddenly held court.

“This is how it’s going to go down, boys,” he started. “I take my girl and go. You tools can skulk off and no one will ever hear from you again.”

He smirked at Noel, wrinkles expanding across his face as he tweaked the Mad Angel’s nose. “And I give you boys all the protection you need.”

Bates was playing all sides against the middle, and Lily had given him the opening that he needed to make this vile play. She had trusted him and spoke out of turn when she thought that he was one of the good guys.

Like his own squad was going to take my word over his.

How could she be so blind as to trust any cop when this was how they were? Bates reached for Sally when Lily smacked his hand back with a cold glare.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“What are you gonna do about it, princess?” Bates asked. “You’re just a freak in need of a fix. Maybe you’re sweet mom buys that line and thinks it’s a kind of normal. But I take care of my daughter.”

Even as Lily kicked and screamed, Bates pried Sally from her arms.

“Leave her alone!” Ken screamed. “Don’t you fucking touch—”

In the same instant that he fell silent under the weight of Noel’s gun, Lily’s hand wrapped around a stray stone. Wielding it like the most lethal weapon, Lily lowered the rock to the back of Bates’s head.

“Wrong move,” Noel said. He fired at Lily’s feet.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Michael wrestled Noel to the ground as another set of arms pushed Lily away from path of the oncoming bullet. As she fell into the sand, Lily looked up and saw Brendan starting down at her. Her breath was hard as he helped her to her feet and smoothed his hands down the side of her skirt.

“So now I’m forgiven?” Lily asked.

“Guess we’re on the same side,” Brendan said.

They shared a smile, and as Bates struggled to his knees, Michael charged forward and stared the cop down.

“You are not getting her back,” Michael spat.

“That a fact? Maybe I’ll take the rich girl as reparation. Sort of like the ideas of both of being inside both of them.”

His laughter caused Lily to cringe, and Ken rolled away from another bullet and took Sally into his arms.

“It’s not happening,” Michael promised.

“Let’s just put a fucking point on this.” Bates was on his feet with a fresh smirk. “I’m getting my daughter out of this hellhole and taking her home.”

“She is home!” Ken challenged. “Here, away from you!”

Bates waved his fingers in the air, and Noel was ready to fire again when the cop spoke slowly.

“She comes back,” Bates said as he turned his smirk to Noel. “I can count on you boys to make that happen, right?”

Noel nodded, and Lily’s eyes darted in every direction. Sophia was without her shotgun, and Michael’s charging fists were stopped short by another Mad Angel’s sharp blow. Spying Ken’s gun laying in the sand, Lily considered making a play for the weapon and hoping that she could hit him right between his eyes. But she hadn’t had a moment’s worth of practice, and the rock was far from her grasp.

But there was something else…

“Here!” she cried. “Take this.”

Collecting the bills from the sand, Lily pressed the bills to Noel’s feet and snapped her fingers to Michael’s face.

“Lily? What the hell do you think you’re—?”

“Give him the rest of it!” she cried. “Give him all of it.”

Michael stayed still when Lily shot him a quick stare, her eyes pleading and knowing as she begged him to just make the move. Trust me. Like I trusted you.

Pushing his hand into his jeans, Michael flung the rest of the reward to the sand and stood back as Lily gathered the bills into her hands and pushed them toward Noel’s eyes.

“This is yours,” she whispered. “All this money.”

Noel appeared intrigued by the green poking through her fingers. Money talked, and Noel would listen. His hands were nearly on the bills when Lily brought the money back to her chest and curled her lips into a smirk.

“But you have to take out the trash first,” Lily said.

Noel cocked his head as he returned the point of his gun to the space between her eyes.

“Now why would I want to that?” Noel asked. “Cop here says that he’ll look out for us. So there’s a lot more where—”

“And when the word on the street is that Mad Angels are in bed with the law,” Lily said. “Think about it, Noel. When he’s tired of you, he’ll sell you out and do you dirty, too.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Bates said. “This one just needs a lesson.”

Michael charged forward, and Lily reached up for his arm as she kept her gaze of Noel. “But we’ll all go,” she continued. “And you can consider this payment for the men that you’ve lost. And I have it on good authority that there’s another cop called Nick that wants a mole.”

Bates started to his feet and clenched his fists. “Don’t you even try to turn this to your—”

“And you won’t be in his pocket,” Lily said. “You can play him like a fiddle, take the cash, and—”

Bates started to reach for his daughter again when Noel made his decision. Firing a single bullet into the back of his head, Bates’s face registered total shock before he fell into a pool of blood.

“Deal,” Noel said. “You fucks have thirty minutes.”

Sally’s fingers touched the edge of the bleeding as Brendan and Wesley dragged the body away for a swift burial.

“Come on, Sally,” Ken said. “It’s over now.”

Lily watched her tense body finally relax in his arms as Sophia helped them off to make their getaway.

“Nice play,” Michael said as he gathered Lily in her arms and kissed her cheeks.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“I didn’t. I took a chance. Guess it worked, huh?” He kissed her quickly, and as his mouth melted around hers, Lily wanted nothing more than to be alone with him a place where they didn’t have to worry about the other shoe dropping. “So do you want me to take you home now?”

Turning her eyes towards the crew as they prepared to take off, Lily felt the wind in her hair, and het soul buzzed at the promise of the unknown. It was who he was, who he always would be.

And she was not about to take that away from him.

“How about I just go with you?” she asked.

Michael started back and slowly shook his head. “We’ve covered that,” he said. “I’ll go wherever you want—”

“I know,” Lily whispered as she stretched to the tips of her toes and lightly kissed his lips. “And I want to go with you.”

“It was really great to see you.”

“Honey, the feeling was more than mutual.”

Lily hummed happily at the sound of her mother’s voice pouring through the phone. From the other room, she heard bottles cracking and glass clinking on glass.

“Sounds like a party out there,” Quin chimed in. “So you waited for me to hop out on a plane before breaking out the good stuff, huh?”

“Mom, it’s not like that,” Lily said. “Just a little celebration.”

“Oh? And what’s the big occasion.”

“I’m not quite sure yet,” Lily said as she peeked around the doorframe of the converted warehouse, the Diesel Devils’ new home base. Sophia said a clubhouse was top priority as soon as the bikes crossed over the California border. Best to get the lay of the land, scope out the territory. Not that they would step on any toes. Not in the beginning at least. And as luck would have it, they chanced upon a corner of sidewalk with its share of pushers and pimps. But no clubs or crews, and the Diesel Devils offered protection in exchange for favors that lead to a wary but mutually beneficial arrangement where no one was chasing them anymore.

And for so many reasons, Lily prayed that the peace would hold out forever.

“Well, have your fun I suppose,” Corinne teased. “Guess I’ll just have to make do with my feet up and a chilled bottle of chardonnay.”

The thought of her mother alone in the wake of her divorce tugged at Lily’s heart. “I’m sorry again, mom,” she said.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Corinne asked.

“I just… I mean if I hadn’t gone off… maybe things wouldn’t have gone south so fast for you and Dad.”

“Lily, it was bound to happen sooner or later. It had nothing to do with you.” Corinne said as much when she’d visited. When Lily was able to see the light in her eyes and failed to detect any hint of a lie, Lily took her mother’s words to be fact.

“And you’re really okay with it?” Lily asked. “Because… because you know if you want to come out here for keeps, I can talk to Michael—”

“Almost ready, babe?”

Lily shot up straighter at the sound of another voice from the other end of the line. Answering in a muffled tone, Corinne said something that sounded like two shakes, tiger , and when she tried to resume their conversation as if a huge bombshell had not been dropped, Lily cut her mother off at the pass.

“Alone with your wine?” Lily challenged. “Who’s there with you?”

Sighing happily, Corinne held her daughter in suspense for several seconds before ripping the curtain away.

“Jesse,” she murmured. “I think I might have mentioned him.”

“Yeah. You said he was your yoga instructor.”

“He is,” Corinne continued. “And take it from me. All those… positions are coming in quite handy.”

Lily’s jaw dropped in amazement as she quickly connected the dots in her mind. “Mother! You said he was like my age.”

“He’s twenty-six, Lily. Worlds away from twenty-two.”

She wasn’t sure about that, and the thought of her mother writhing around in bed with some young man striking the downward facing dog between her legs initially made Lily shudder. A woman of Corinne’s age shouldn’t act like that. At least not with a man of Jesse’s age. She started to challenge the revealed relationship when she caught Michael out of the corner of her eye. Gripping the neck of a bottle of beer, he returned her gaze with a sharp wink and a bright smile. Returning his grin, Lily felt her body buzz at the sight of him.

Your man, your choice.

Turning her attention back to the call, Lily tapped her fingers to a nearby table and nodded her head.

“Are you happy, Mom?” Lily asked.

“Ecstatic is more like it,” Corinne said. “Sort of like you.”

As they agreed in silence, Sophia poked her head in the room and beckoned Lily forward with a wave of her hand.

“Hurry up!” she insisted. “Party won’t keep all night.”

“One sec.”

Sophia’s heels clicked against the concrete as she sashayed back to the club in a leopard print skirt and gold halter top, making no effort to conceal her curves as she started to gather the group together for the purpose of the party.

“Stay ecstatic, Mom,” Lily said. “I know for a fact that it’s the very best place to be.”

“Wait three months,” Corinne teased. “You’ll be happier still.”

Lily threw her head back with a laugh and ran her fingers through her loose air.

“I’ll see you then.” Lily promised. “And feel free to bring Jesse along for the ride.”

“I will,” Corinne says. “And who knows? Maybe he and your boy will hit it off.”

As Lily ended the call, she wasn’t completely on board with that. Any man that stretched and contorted in tight pants for a living would most definitely not be his cup of tea. But Lily knew with utter certainty that he would put up a brave front if it made her happy.

Riding the wave of this blissful thought, she stepped into the thick of the party just getting underway. Lily was barely at his side when Michael wrapped her in his arms and held her close.

“All good with your mom?”

“A bit of a surprise,” Lily confessed. “But yes. She’s happy.”

“She’s not the only one.”

He lightly kissed the top of her head as his hands ran down her back. Sophia quickly clapped hands and brought the room to a hush in less than an instant. “Okay, boys and girls. A lot has changed this past year. And more than just the scenery. New digs. New threads.”

She proudly modeled her sexy ensemble and basked in the good-natured catcalls emanating from the Diesel Devils.

“Pipe down,” she said as she nodded her head in proud agreement. “But this night isn’t all about me. And I think that Ken here has something to stay.”

Sophia waved him to the center of the room, and he stepped forward with Sally’s hand in his. With her golden brown hair tied over her head in a soft bun and some color in her cheeks, a little more meat on her bones, Sally looked healthy. When she held Ken’s hand tighter and gazed into his eyes, she looked overjoyed, all the bad memories fading into her past to never torment her again.

“Well… uh… yeah,” Ken started. Sophia patted his back and handed him a beer. He took a quick swig and seemed fortified enough to continue.

“Like Sophia said. We’ve come a long away. But it looks like we all landed on our feet. Right smack where we’re supposed to be.”

He shared a warm look with Michael before gazing back and Sally and bringing his hand to her smiling face.

“Exactly the place,” he said.

As he leaned closer and pressed his lips to her ear, Lily strained forward and heard him a mutter a single word in the form of a knowing question.

“Happy?” he asked.

Sally nodded slowly, and as her mouth expanded into a soft, relaxed grin, Ken reached into his pocket. Revealing a small box of beige velvet he sank to one knee and flipped open the lid. Sally wasn’t the only one in the room to gasp at the sight of the diamond set in a band of white gold, and Sally trembled as she slapped her hand to her mouth.

“So what do you say?” he asked. “You want make an honest man out of an old timer?”

“Stop selling yourself short,” Sophia hissed through her teeth as she nudged his back with her elbow.

Ken either didn’t feel her touch or didn’t care. His eyes were only for Sally as he pulled the ring from the box and offered it with a smile. “It’d make me happy,” he said. “As happy as I want to make you.”

A pin could have dropped and sounded like a cracking mirror crushing into a million jagged shards. But when Sally nodded and let him slip the ring on her finger, Lily knew that there was no risk of bad luck. Not anymore. Ken was on his feet in two seconds flat, and as he kissed Sally quickly, and the room burst into applause. Some of the boys surrounded the pair, slapping Ken on the back as they kissed Sally’s flushed cheeks. Lily surveyed the scene happily as Brendan cranked the music to full volume and Sophia sauntered to her side.

“Happy news, ain’t it?” Sophia asked.

“Well worth a party,” Lily answered.

Narrowing her gaze, Sophia looked up at Michael and tilted her head to the side. “You better get on the stick, boy,” she said. “Time’s a wasting.”

As she stepped away from him, Michael eased Lily into a dark corner and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Sophia has a point,” he said. “I mean… maybe we should…”

“Not now,” Lily teased. “If… when we do it, I want to look like a princess.”

“You always look that way to me.”

Taking her into his arms, his kiss blazed against her lips, and Lily started to fall into his arms when he held her back and studied her face carefully.

“What?” she asked.

“No regrets? For any of it?”

Not for leaving home. Not for falling into his hot hands and learning every curvature of his taut frame. And not for pulling up stakes for one more ride and following him to this point in time.

“Well…”

“What?” Michael asked as he shot up straighter and grabbed her arms.

“I sort of would like to see the baby right here and now,” she said as she brought his hands to her rounded belly. Michael stroked her ever-expanding middle and buried his face in her hair.

“Only three more months,” he crooned. “Flash in the bucket compared to always.”

Leaning away from him, Lily rested her hands on his arms and flashed him a smile.

“I guess I can wait,” she said. “Because there’s always going to be a tomorrow night.”

As he kissed her deeply, Lily basked in Michael’s embrace. The party swirled around them, and tomorrow couldn’t get here soon enough.

THE END

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I’M HERE TO RUIN HER LIFE.

I’m the farthest thing from a nice guy.

I’ve done things her pretty little mind can’t even imagine.

But if she wants to get out of this hellhole alive…

She’ll have to follow my every command.

I bought her because I wanted to.

Plain and simple.

But it’s just like they say: greed is good.

Because if I didn’t come along and snatch her off that auction block…

The devils around me would have eaten her alive.

They’re merciless.

I am, too – in my own way.

I want what I want – and right now, I want a taste of her.

Her sweetness.

Her innocence.

Her fear.

She might think she’d be better off without me.

But one look around will confirm the truth:

I’m the only chance she’s got.

So bare it all, princess.

I’ll give you your freedom at a price.

But never forget:

You belong to me now.

***

There’s only one rule: Obey.

I should’ve kept my eyes to myself.

But I couldn’t stop looking.

That was before I realized the consequences:

Once I have a taste of Griffin’s world, I can never go back.

It was innocent at first.

But I’ll never forget how he stared back at me.

How his eyes undressed me.

His words seduced me.

Every touch made me hungry for the next.

I begged for his kiss, pleaded for his touch.

Here, there, now, whenever – all I knew was that I had to have him.

I should’ve never fallen for him.

But I did – right to my knees.

I’m scared.

Not just because the tatted biker owns me now.

Not just because he demands I submit to him completely.

I’m scared that, when he demands obedience, I won’t be able to say no.

Because Griffin always gets what he wants.

***

I break everyone who challenges me. This girl will be no different.

Whether on the battlefield or in the cage, it makes no difference:

I always come out on top.

Tiana thinks she will be the one to strip away my defenses.

But the only one stripping is her.

I’ve got a body count that’s hundreds deep.

It’s what soldiers do:

We take down what’s in front of us.

I simply refuse to lose.

But Tiana is different than anyone I’ve ever faced.

She’s tough, but fragile.

Smart, but scared.

She’s seen hell, too.

A different kind of hell than the bloodbaths I’m used to.

I want to fight for her.

To protect her from the bastards in her past…

And the devils in her head.

For that to happen, she has to let me in.

She wants to refuse, to keep me at arms’ length.

But one way or another, I’m going to break her down.

I won’t rest until I make her mine.

***

I’ll make her give in to my darkest cravings.

She wanted an adventure.

I needed someone to control.

She was so innocent.

So pure that it’d almost be a shame to ruin her.

Almost.

She should have stayed away.

She should have kept her distance.

But now she’s mine to do with as I please.

I destroy beautiful things, and she’s going to be my masterpiece.

Every touch.

Every breath.

Every moan.

Until she can’t remember her own name.

Because she’ll be too busy screaming mine.

***

I won’t be denied, no matter how loud she screams.

She says she’s not scared, but she should be.

Because I’ll show her just how far I can go.

How deep she can fall.

How loud she can scream.

I left her behind when I joined the Marines.

When I came back, I built a fortune off my blood, sweat, and tears.

I didn’t think I’d get a second chance with her.

Until she crashed back into my world.

The only problem is, she’s more off-limits than ever.

But I won’t be denied.

She tells me she’s not scared—not scared of me, not scared of the consequences.

She should be, if she knows what’s good for her.

Because I’ll show her just how far I can go.

How hard she can fall.

How loud she can scream.

***

SHE DID THE UNTHINKABLE, AND NOW I’LL DESTROY HER.

I came to take her brother’s life.

She offered herself in her brother’s place instead.

Now there’s no turning back.

Because once I have her, I’m going to destroy her.

I'm a gun-for-hire. No questions, no hesitation.

I came to take a life—her brother’s life.

But then she did the unthinkable.

She offered herself to a monster like me.

Said she’d do whatever I want.

However I want. Whenever I want.

As long as I let her brother live.

She should have known better than to trust me.

She should have known better than to let me close.

Because I’ll destroy her.

Her full curves. Her innocent eyes. Her quivering lips…

I’ll make her scream.

I’ll make her beg.

I’ll make her mine.

And I’ll kill anyone who thinks they can stop me.

***

I WAS SUPPOSED TO SAVE HER. INSTEAD, I TOOK HER AND BROKE HER.

I was a hitman who wanted to leave that life behind.

She was a good girl who just wanted to get by.

I saved her, but once I got a good look at her, I couldn’t hold back.

So I took her and broke her—night after night, until she’s mine.

She didn’t think she needed someone like me by her side.

I didn’t think I’d have to kill again.

I wanted a family—a wife and child.

I wanted to leave the hitman life behind.

She brought that world back in the worst possible way.

I saved her that night, but she made it impossible for me to pull away.

Neither of us was prepared to be in each other’s life.

Once I had her in my hands, I knew I won’t ever let her go.

Not after I’ve tasted her lips.

Not after I’ve broken her innocence.

Not after I’ve stripped her bare and left her trembling beneath me.

But that was before the same bastards who used to hire me put a target on her back.

Now it’s war.

And I won’t back down.

Not until they’re all dead.

Not until she is mine.

***

I TOOK HER, RUINED HER, AND LEFT MY BABY IN HER BELLY.

She was biker royalty—the Desert Knights MC president’s daughter.

I was trash as far as her family was concerned.

So I took her, ruined her, and made her scream.

I put my baby in her belly—and no-one, not even her family—can take them away from me.

Tory Walsh was the daughter of the Desert Knights MC President.

Sweet, innocent, and totally off-limits.

She was a drug I couldn’t quit.

A thirst I couldn’t quench.

Once wasn’t ever enough, so I took her and corrupted her.

Night after night, again and again.

Until her voice was hoarse from screaming.

Until her body quivered at my slightest touch.

Everything changed when I put a child in her belly.

I knew her family would come after me.

But I never thought they’d go after her and the baby.

Now, nothing is sacred and nothing is off-limits.

I’m keeping Tory, and I’m keeping our baby.

I’ll keep them safe. No matter what.

***

I SAVED HER. BUT SHE NEVER THOUGHT THAT I’D OWN HER

She was a firefighter who never thought she needed saving.

I was looking for the b*stards trying to destroy my club.

She didn’t count on me to save her.

But I’ll do more than that—I’m going to own her.

My enemies tried to kill me by setting my world on fire.

Dani was a firefighter who never thought she’d need a biker like me to save her.

I pulled her out of the fire, but now I can’t get her out of my head.

I know women like her.

She’s tough, but there’s no way she could ever hide her innocence.

I can see it in her eyes when she looks at me.

I can smell it in the air when she’s close.

She brings out the animal in me.

She makes me lose control.

She’s the match that lit the fire in me.

And nothing in the world can stop me from making her mine.

***

I WASN’T A HERO AND SHE DIDN’T ASK TO BE SAVED.

She's fought tooth and nail to survive.

I take what I want.

She didn't ask for a savior.

But she doesn’t know that I saved her for myself.

I f*ck and leave, simple and sweet. But when I saw her surrounded by those animals, something in me snapped.

Watching over some chick ain’t the kind of thing I do.

But Aimee was something else.

A spitfire with a body begging to be tamed, and a smart mouth I wouldn’t mind wrapped around me.

She knows I’m a monster.

But this monster’s her only chance of survival out here.

And I won’t stop until I make her MINE.

***

THIS JOB DIDN’T ASK ME TO TAKE HIS DAUGHTER, BUT THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I’LL DO .

I was supposed to kill the Don of our oldest rival crime family.

But that was before I got a glimpse of his daughter.

An untamable spitfire hiding under an innocent spoiled princess.

Once I saw her, I had a different plan in mind.

I plan to put her under me—night after night, again and again

Her father thought I was here to negotiate a truce between our crime families.

He had no idea I was sent to destroy them from the inside.

His innocent daughter was the only one who suspected me.

A princess who’s been sheltered from the world her father built.

One look at her, and the last thing I wanted was to keep her quiet.

I’ll finish this job, and then I’m taking her as a bonus.

She may try to uncover me for who I really am.

But not before I take her.

Strip her.

And leave her throat raw from screaming.