After catching a few hours of sleep, I force myself to untangle from Henley and get out of bed. As much as I want to wake her and spend hours taking her in every possible way I can think up, I have to remind myself that she is still healing from the accident. Her bandages may be gone, the bruises marring her body have faded to a dull yellow, but the last thing I want to do is push her too far too soon.

Dressed and ready to get shit done, I stop at the bed, taking in the gorgeous woman sleeping soundly in my bed. Lying partially on her stomach, her curly blonde hair is fanned out across my pillow, her face relaxed. Bending down, I can’t help kissing her swollen lips. She sighs softly, her eyelids fluttering, but not fully opening. Grabbing the sheet from the edge of the bed, I tug it over her naked body, and force myself to leave the room.

Heading up the stairs, I spot Huck and Doc at the bar talking to Torch and Schrader. Tucked safely against Schrader’s chest, is baby Vic, dressed head to toe in pink. “How’s diaper duty, asshole?” I ask, snagging myself a donut from the box on the bar. Inhaling it in two bites, I grab another.

“I don’t do diapers,” Schrader replies, smirking down at the baby. “She saves the shit for her Momma.”

“Just you wait, Ol’ boy,” Huck chuckles. “She may save the shit for Momma now, but it’s the Poppas who get dumped on when those boys start sniffin’ around.”

“Never gonna fuckin’ happen, Old man.” Schrader’s eyes shoot up. Meeting Huck’s, they go cold. “Little bastards show up for my girl, I’ll bury ‘em out back up to their necks in the backlot. Kick their teeth in and leave ‘em to rot. Every goddamn one of ‘em.”

Carrying two coffee cups, Shy steps out from the door that leads to the kitchen. “For fuck’s sake,” she snorts, rolling her eyes. “Pretty sure we’ve got a while before some punk wants to date Vic, babe. How about we focus on something simple? Like getting her to sleep somewhere other than in your arms?”

Shy’s crack gets a laugh out of everyone. Except Schrader. He looks somewhere between annoyed and amused, but doesn’t say anything in response. Shy sets down the coffee mugs and takes the baby from Schrader. Vic starts to fuss the second Shy settles her against her chest. Picking up one of the mugs, Schrader smiles smug as fuck before taking a sip.

“Stone on his way down?” I ask, knowing that ever since Stone bought the house on the ridge behind the clubhouse for himself and Roanne, they rarely sleep here anymore.

“Should be,” Doc says, with a nod of his head. “With everyone back from handlin’ shit, he’s eager to figure out our next moves.”

“Damn right,” Huck blurts, snatching the other cup of coffee and adding moonshine like creamer. “Gotta head out with this old prick to make a run this afternoon,” he grumbles, jerking his chin at Doc. “Got the exchange with Merc’s guy comin’. Big fuckin’ order.”

“Which means no skimmin’ off the top,” Doc fires back, dropping his spent smoke into a soda can.

“Told ya,” Huck argues, shooting him a glare. “That’s for the quality inspection.”

“Inspection my ass,” Shy laughs. Walking around the bar, she drops a kiss to his cheek. “That’s like a pimp tappin’ his girl’s asses and claimin’ quality control.”

Huck’s smile nearly splits his face. “Damn skippy, sweetheart. It’s a hard fuckin’ job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

“I swear to hell Ma found you on the side of the road, playin’ under power lines,” Doc grunts, pushing to his feet. “Bless her soul for takin’ your crazy ass in.”

“Henley awake?” Shy asks, looking to me to change the subject before Doc and Huck start trading punches. “Thought I’d ask her to run into town with me in a bit. Pop needs me to pick up his jars from Hilman’s. Ro’s goin’ too. Thought we could use the opportunity to get a jump on some of this wedding stuff.”

“Sleepin’ when I left her,” I reply, unable to hide my grin.

“In your bed?” Torch’s tone hardens.

“Of course not,” Shy huffs, rolling her eyes. “Colt made her sleep in the bathtub, dipshit.”

“Lot more than sleepin’ goin’ on,” Schrader laughs, nudging me with his elbow. “Whole damn building shook so hard earlier I bet it registered on the Richter scale.”

Torch and I both shoot warning looks to Schrader. “That’s my sister, shithead,” Torch growls.

“Sister or not,” Schrader shrugs. “Colt’s tappin’ that.”

“That’s enough,” I warn, hardening my stare. “You wanna talk about the ways you fuck your girl, that’s on you. Not everyone takes out an ad in the paper every time they get their dick wet.”

“Clean up the blood,” Shy says, winking at Schrader before turning for the hallway. “I’ve got a baby to put down for a nap.”

“You women leave this lot, there sure as fuck better be a man ridin’ behind you!” Schrader shouts after her, his head snapping in her direction to watch her walk away.

“Saw Jace out front.” Striding through the opened front doors, Stone yanks off his sunglasses. Releasing Ro’s hand, he presses a kiss to her temple before she follows behind Shy. “Consider him their shadow for the day.” His eyes move to me. He grins. “Good to see you made it back in one piece, Brother,” he says clapping me on the back. “How ‘bout you get us all up to speed on where we’re at.”

“Put your children to bed, Mother,” Doc says, rubbing his hands together. “It’s story time.”

“Found the driver at some shit hole on Merc’s turf,” I say, scanning the empty room for unwanted ears. “He’s been handled.”

Seeming satisfied, Stone nods. “Was he forthcoming?”

“Not exactly,” I admit. “Took some convincin’.”

“It was fuckin’ beautiful,” Doc says, slapping Huck on the back, sending the old man into a coughing fit. “Almost as much fun as the time Huck and me fucked up that shithead fuckin’ with Nita’s horses.”

“Good for nothin’ Tinsley,” Huck laughs. “Poor bastard never did grow a single hair on his chest after we shot him with that rock salt.”

“You shot the guy with salt?” I ask, shaking my head.

“Nita wouldn’t stop yappin’ about this punk workin’ up her best mare every night,” Huck explains. “If I’d killed a kid in her damn barn, that hellcat would’ve put my balls in a goddamn jar in the kitchen window.”

“Shit,” Doc laughs. “She took your balls long before that, Brother. Try 1979.”

“Anyway.” Yanking a hand through my hair, I clear my throat. “Guy was hired out a few months ago. Job was mostly a surveillance gig. Said that changed with the last money drop. Gave me the name Reed. Got Jinks workin’ on it now.”

“Reed?” Torch bites out, his hands balling into fists.

“Yeah, that’s all he gave me,” I reply, turning my attention to him. “You know the guy? Where to find him?”

“Yeah.” His body goes rigid, expression ice fucking cold. Snatching Doc’s smokes off the table, he lights one up. “Our younger brother, Reed, was buried five years ago in Tall Oaks Cemetery.” Yanking his keys from his pocket, he charges for the door.

“Where the fuck are you goin’?” Doc shouts, catching his cigarette pack in mid-air when Torch throws it back at him.

“I’m late for a lunch beatin’.”

“Don’t you mean meetin’?” Huck asks, the wheels in his head turning.

“No, old man. Pretty sure he didn’t.”

“Follow him,” Stone says, worry flashing in his eyes. “Schrader, you too. Shit goes bad, handle it and get back here. I’ll find out what Jinks has so far.”

“I’m on it.”

With Schrader at my back, I haul ass out to my bike that, thanks to the boys in the shop, looks better than ever. The second the bad bitch roars to life, I lay on the throttle and tear out of the lot. Torch is hauling ass through town by the time we catch up with him, and he sure as fuck isn’t making it easy to follow his ass. His back tire fishtails when he takes a hard right onto the damn highway, driving like he has a goddamn death wish.

The moment he exits the highway, I know exactly where he’s heading. Since the night Henley’s ex showed up at her place, I’ve had Jinks going over every detail of the guy’s life with a fine-tooth comb. At the base of the valley, the Michaelson Country Club comes into view, where Senator Hammon is speaking at the groundbreaking ceremony for the new tennis courts. A speech that you can bet Daniel will be attending since he can’t pull his nose from daddy’s ass long enough to catch his breath.

Torch bypasses the lot completely, driving right onto the goddamn golf green. “Shit!” I roar, nearly sliding to a damn stop. Leaping off my bike, I run up the perfectly landscaped walkway. “Torch! Goddammit.”

Schrader and I round the corner of the building in time to see Torch stop his bike right in front of the platform where the Senator is supposed to give his speech. Hammon stands talking to two other men. One of them that worthless tool who had his back at Henley’s. Hammon’s eyes go wide. “Donovan?”

Leaping onto the platform, Torch kicks Hammon in the chest. Stumbling back, the guy falls off the back edge, onto the grass. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Torch roars, diving on top of him. Yanking Hammon up by the shirt, Torch’s fist connects with his face. “I’ll fuckin’ end you right here.”

“Get the fuck outta here,” I bark at Schrader, my feet already in motion. “No way I’m dealin’ with Shy if you end up in cuffs over this shit and miss your own weddin’.”

“My woman likes me in cuffs!” he shouts, yanking out his phone as he hauls ass for his bike. “Especially if she’s the one with the keys!”

Grounds security swarm Torch, along with Hammon’s man. Yanking him off Hammon, they slam him to the ground, working to secure him when he fights back. Torch is cuffed and pulled to his feet before I can even get around the platform. “Jesus Christ,” I hiss through my teeth, taking in the guy’s busted nose and lip.

“I suggest you think twice before taking your swing, Mr. Morrison.” Spitting blood, Hammon gets to his feet with the help of his man. “Unless you want to share a cell with your friend.”

“Not why I’m here,” I answer honestly. “I tried to stop this shit before it went down. That obviously didn’t happen. Not that you don’t deserve the beat down.” I shrug my shoulders, pissing him off. Not that I give a fuck if I’ve hurt his feelings.

His body stiffens. “I see.” Straightening his tie, he attempts to stand tall. “And what exactly have I done to deserve another assault by you and your kind?”

“Sir,” some shit in a suit says, stepping between Hammon and me. “I’ll need to check you for weapons as well. It’s procedure.”

“Knock yourself out, pal.” Spreading my arms out wide, I challenge him. “Unlike your guy here, I’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

While the guy pats me down, Hammon and I stare at each other. Neither of us say a word. We don’t need to. This bastard knows the score. Not that it will stop me from laying it out for his ass again if I feel like that’s warranted. My claim on Henley is being made crystal fucking clear from this moment on. So will the distance I demand he keep.

I dare anyone to challenge that shit. Especially some uppity piece of shit with more money than sense. Had he done shit right, she’d still be wearing his ring and we wouldn’t be standing here. Since she isn’t, it’s time he ghosts from her life for good.

If that means I have to do that for him by digging a hole, so fuckin’ be it.

No love lost here.

“He’s clean, Mr. Hammon,” the guy says, stepping away from me. “Only weapon we found was on your assailant.”

Shit.

“I highly doubt that, Hershel,” Hammon sneers like the damn snake that he is. Yanking a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he attempts to clean up his face.

“County Sheriffs are pulling in now,” Hershel replies.

“Good,” Hammon nods. “I want them both taken into custody. Had the Senator been here—”

“Think we both know that’s not who he came here for,” I say, my comment wiping the curled lip smile right off his condescending face. Shrugging, I bite back a laugh. “Dear ol’ daddy’s safe. Trust me. Now you, that’s a different story.”

“I don’t take highly to threats, Mr. Morrison,” he counters, throwing down the blood-stained cloth. “Not from Donovan. Not from you or your biker friends. Not from anyone.”

I step closer. He steps back. I smile, loving that he’s intimidated by me, even if he doesn’t want to admit that shit. “I don’t make threats,” I ground out, feeling Hershel at my back. “I eliminate them.”

While the manager of the country club leads Hammon away to a luxury suite to smooth things over, Hershel slaps a set of cuffs on me and leads me out front, where the law is waiting. Torch is already sitting in the back of Dobbs’s vehicle. Standing beside the opened back door, Dobbs is talking to Fowler and a member of the security team.

Hands cuffed behind his back, Torch leans up, his forehead pressed against the back of the front seat. Eyes tightly closed, his entire jaw ticks angrily. I have no doubt that if he weren’t cuffed and secured in the damn car, he would be tearing into anyone and everyone who stood between him and Hammon.

Even with all this going down, I grin seeing that Schrader’s bike is long gone. At least with him heading back to the clubhouse, it’s safe to say Stone will have the club lawyer waiting at the station. Rachelle Harding is one tough bitch when it comes to navigating the sticky legal shit we manage to get into. If she can keep Schrader’s crazy ass out of prison, I have no doubt she can handle the blowback on this without batting an eye.

“I should’ve known,” Dobbs grumbles, shooting me a glare. “What the hell, Trent? This you handlin’ your business?”

“Nah,” I grunt when the security fuck and Fowler shove me up against the side of the car, Fowler making a big show of patting me down. “Torch and me were thinkin’ about takin’ up golf. Heard it’s real therapeutic and shit.”

“That so?” he asks, sounding annoyed. “So that makes trespassing and assault part of your short game?”

“I never laid hands on that bastard.” My temper is raging. “Don’t ask me what went down if you’re gonna start spoutin’ off bullshit charges. Hell, Jerry, you’re startin’ to sound like your lackey,” I mutter, jerking my chin at Fowler.

“Watch your tone, son,” he warns, narrowing his eyes. “Remember who you’re talkin’ to.”

“I know exactly who you are,” I say with a jerk of my head. “You’re the guy who’ll be spittin’ his teeth next time he calls me son.”

“Read him his rights and put his ass in back with his buddy,” he barks at Fowler. “I’ll book ‘em while you talk to the victim.” Turning his back to me, Dobbs rounds the front of his vehicle and climbs behind the wheel.

Looking up at the building, I spot Hammon making his way down the steps, with four men flanking him. “Victim my ass,” I seethe, spitting in his direction. “The guy’s a fuckin’ snake.”

“Move,” Fowler growls, shoving me toward the car.

“Second time you’ve put me in cuffs,” I taunt him. “Think you can make the shit stick this time, asshole?”

“What have you done with Henley?” Yanking open the door, he crowds my space. “You scare her into movin’ into that fuckin’ compound so you can keep her away from her family and friends?”

“I’m keepin’ my girl safe.” Turning to face him, I smile. “And what I do to Henley is none of your goddamn business, shithead. But you can bet you’ll be one sorry piece of shit, you ever touch her again.”

“That a threat?” he asks, shoving me again.

“Nope.” Shaking my head, I climb into the back of the car. “That’s a fuckin’ promise.”